


Dear Reader

by AlixxBlack



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Multi Chapter, dramione - Freeform, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlixxBlack/pseuds/AlixxBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(5th Year - Assumed/Slight AU)</p><p>Hermione decided that the Hogwarts Library needed a new piece of Muggle literature. She didn't expect anyone to find it, let alone actually respond to her letter, she is extremely surprised when it is returned to her on a couple days later. And you'd never guess who her reader is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dear Reader

**Author's Note:**

> 1) This is inspired by a fanfiction titled “Dear Librarian” written by fanfiction.net author swlfangirl. If you’re a Destiel AU fangirl of the SPN fandom, take a hot minute to read it.
> 
> 2) When I started writing this about two months ago I was writing it just for a small audience on ff.net but I want more people to read it because I am selfish. The story is told in the past tense except for the epilogue which is told in present tense, as a forewarning.
> 
> 3) Please keep in mind that this is a work "in progress" as I have not finished the final part of the two-part epilogue.
> 
> 4) Read & Enjoy!

_Dear Reader,_

_If you have found this letter then you have found my favorite book of all time. My mother and Father started reading it to me when I was a young girl before bed. Being Muggle-born does often make me feel as though I am at a disadvantage in a school filled primarily with people who have at least one magical parent, but I also feel at the same time that the classic literature of the Muggle world should find a place in this world of magic. After all, in a way the adventures contained in those pages of the classic novels which have made their mark in history are magical in a sense._

_I hope very deeply that if you have found this letter and this book that you take the time to read it. You may find, if you do read, that this novel offers more than just a good read. It is a temporary escape from the everyday reality which we live in. Each character, each scenario, it offers a brief glimpse into the same traits or scenarios that we find ourselves entangled in all the time. It’s brilliant._

_When you’re done reading it, please kindly return the book to me. I would like to take it back with me when summer arrives. If nobody ever finds this, or in reverse if someone finds it and never reads it, then I’ll retrieve it at years’ end._

_Yours,_

_H. Granger_

_  
_

Draco looked back at the front of the book and noted that it was called “Jane Eyre.” He glanced around the restricted section to assure a second time that nobody was around and that he wouldn’t be witnessed shoving the book into his satchel. As for the letter, he folded it delicately and kept his hand balled around it.

Ever since Voldemort’s return last year during the finale of the Tri-Wizard Tournament things were changing at home. As a result, Draco could feel himself changing too. He was so much changed in the past few months that he was fully aware and willing to have taken Hermione Granger’s book. Draco had figured that since he did not have classes tomorrow he could read what Granger had left behind. Besides all that, he needed something to do anyway. He had just finished his advanced potion making theory in the medical field. He was arguing the use of forbidden mixtures for the benefit of some of the most severe afflictions which currently have no cure. Plus Draco felt moderately obligated somehow after reading Granger’s introductory letter.

Unsurprisingly, Draco found it difficult to sleep that night. Each time he rolled over in his bed and shoved his head into a pillow his mind wandered back to the book. The enemy had intrigued him now with her Muggle literature and he could barely resist the urge – oh bloody hell – _he could not resist_ the urge to get out of bed and begin reading. “Patience is virtue;” his mother always scolded him growing up for being impatient. Patience may be a virtue to other people, but it most certainly wasn’t _his_ virtue.

Now what _was_ surprising is that when Draco started thumbing through the pages of “Jane Eyre” he was unable to stop. He could hardly wait for the next page, the next paragraph, or the next sentence as he continued reading. In fact, he was able to finish the book before sunrise. Now wide awake after finishing there was only one thing to do – ponder how he would respond to Granger’s letter. There would be some time before he could actually respond because he would have to wait for his friends to leave the dorm before safely composing his letter.

After two very agonizing hours, everyone finally woke and meandered to the Great Hall for breakfast without him. When each person approached him and invited him along, Malfoy would softly decline. His reasoning what that he had worked far too hard on Snape’s assignment the day before and was feeling very sluggish. The lie was so believable that even Blaise took the reply without question. As soon as Draco was sure that he was alone he penned his response.                                                                                                                              

_Dear Granger,_

_I found this endearing piece of literature in the restriction section the other day while working on my studies. I must admit that I was a leery about taking it at first but I had a last minute change of heart. And you will not be surprised in the slightest to hear that I read the novel in one sitting last night._

_I skipped sleeping just so that I could finish it, honestly. I must admit some concern that this was your bed time material. But I do assume that this contributes to the intelligence which makes itself known every time you open your mouth. Please take no offense to that statement, if at all possible. Your parents set you up for success. There are plenty of rewards to reap from their foundation._

_Anyway, I do agree with your statement. I found that I did relate to several aspects of the story, as well as the traits of different characters. There’s so much to be appreciated about oneself while reading it and I feel most humbled by this piece. Perhaps that doesn’t make sense to you now seeing as you have no idea who I am. However, if you do figure it out then I’m sure you’ll think back on this letter and understand exactly what I meant._

_Feel free to leave other books that you are fond in the restricted section where you left this one. I go there often to study because it is more private and it offers more advanced topics to read upon. If you choose to leave any further Muggle literature I will make time to read and respond to it in a timely fashion. You were right, as you seem to always be, in stating that we should have more Muggle Literature to peruse at Hogwarts. There’s something magnificent about a simple story._

_Yours._

* * *

__

Draco folded his parchment in half and pushed it into the cover of the book. Since he couldn’t be seen walking around with the book openly he had to wrap it up somehow. Thinking quickly Draco started poking around the mess of gifts on top of his trunk. For some unknown reason Pansy had felt it necessary to send him late birthday gifts since she’d been out of the country on vacation during his actual birthday. Even though most of the gifts were useful he did not wish to have them so frequently. Regardless, the most recent gift had been lightly tucked into a small bag with red tissue paper. It was thick enough and still intact so Draco wrapped up “Jane Eyre” and cut a section of rope from the drawstrings on the curtains to tie everything in place.

Fate sometimes has funny ways of working Malfoy found out. On his way to the Owlery he found himself passing by Granger and the Weasley daughter. He tried at first to not eavesdrop as he passed them by but he couldn’t resist. Draco had a soft spot for temptation and knowledge, it would seem. Pair them off and the boy would land himself in a whole mess of trouble.

“You’re brilliant, you know. That charmed purse going back and forth between you and your parents. Of course, you’re smuggling books and letters when the rest of us would be smuggling pranks and fire whiskey.”

“My schedule isn’t nearly as busy as I was expecting it to be, especially with the restrictions Umbridge has in place. There’s no better way to spend time than reading a good story. Plus watching pranks is far better than being a part of them, I’ve found.”

Draco knew that Granger was referring to the Weasley family. The twin brothers were very funny and were well known for their jokes around the school. He supposed that their sister was very active in such behaviors, which is probably what Granger meant when she stated she didn’t like participating in pranks.

“You mean you don’t want to spend your free time doing all of Ron’s homework?” Draco saw the Weasley girl nudge Granger gently. There had been talk about them possibly being a couple. As for Draco, well, he didn’t really see what they were seeing. Granger and Weasley spent too much time arguing and sneering at one another to have any sort of established romantic relationship. Although, he wasn’t there personally with the “Golden Trio” as they were called. He didn’t know exactly what the interactions between them were really like.

“I couldn’t spend all my time with Ron. I’d go mad!”

As soon as he got passed the girls and made it up the last few rounds of steps, Draco found a standard mailing owl. He didn’t want to use his usual owl because it would make it easier to pinpoint who actually responded. Draco instructed the owl to take the package to Gryffindor Tower where it would wait for Granger far more patiently than it did for Draco.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has gotten her first book back and plans to put a new book out for her anonymous reader. Unfortunately, she has a bit of a run in with Draco Malfoy along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this I had three chapters done before I thought about looking online for an actual schedule for fifth years. So if it sounds off and inaccurate - it is. I'm sorry about that.

When Hermione returned late that evening she was dressed in a frown and a messy braid down her back. After fetching her package with Ginny and lunch with Ron she had to make a trip to Hogsmeade with McGonagall and Umbridbge. The carriage was a dreadful silence and too often Umbridge would mutter obscene nonsense to herself as she escorted them around to fetch supplies. Hermione should be grateful that she could even go in the first place. Unfortunately, her pounding headache argued otherwise.

She walked in and placed her bag on the general table where a chess board was left a mess. She frowned deeper fully aware that Ron was the perpetrator. Glancing over her shoulder she noticed that Harry was sitting on the floor scrawling over several pages of parchment. A chuckle parted her lips because she knew that Harry was rushing to have his work ready for classes tomorrow. When she turned back to the table to shrug off her robes and jacket she noticed a package wrapped in red gift paper. Upon further inspection she saw her name scrawled across the front in unfamiliar handwriting. In a panic she called to Harry from over her shoulder for answers.

“Who sent this?” Hermione’s voice was bold and curious, which she doubted Harry would have recognized as being too different than her usual tone.

“Dunno.” His reply was halfheartedly.

“Well did you see the owl?” She questioned as she pulled off the paper. It revealed her book – the one she’d left in the Restricted Section of the Library just two days ago. Someone had returned it! She wondered if the person had truly read it but she doesn’t have to wonder long. When she lifts the cover there’s a letter inside. Her heart races but she waits to hear what Harry has to say first.

“Just the usual school owl, like the one you use for letters to home. Doesn’t it say?” Hermione can hear the frustration in Harry’s voice but she dismisses it instantly. He is stressed, albeit his own fault. Immediately she grabs her belongings and rushes up the tower to the girl’s dormitory.

Before she goes inside she sits down to read the letter put inside the book. She hadn’t told anyone what she was doing so she didn’t want anyone to ask questions about a mysterious letter. She unfolded it urgently, almost as though her life depended on it. Her eyes drank in every letter written elegantly on the page.

As soon as Hermione finished digesting the letter she smiled to herself. Never mind that the writer was a stranger – they wanted her to leave another book! She managed to deduce a few things about the writer based on the language used in the response. She was dealing with a boy. _A boy!_ Hermione clutched the letter to her hope filled chest.

Hermione got up and walked into the dorm to find Ginny sitting up with one of her friends from her year, a Mary Edwards and Lucille McMillian. Hermione only knew them because she’d been rooming with them for two years but she certainly didn’t know much else about them. She was hardly ever in the dorm for anything other than sleeping. Hermione hardly ever even changed clothes in there anymore.

After Hermione politely greeted everyone she worked her way to the community desk at the far back of the room. The moonlight was shining directly over the desktop which gave perfect mood to the serene moment of victory. Or at least ‘victory’ is how Hermione was labelling it. Immediately her hand began scrawling out the words she’d already picked out upon finishing her reader’s letter.

 

_Dear Reader,_

_If you are the same person who read the first novel left behind - then please allow me to ramble a bit. First, let me congratulate you on using your girlfriend’s tissue paper. You’re probably wondering how I put that together but it was actually very obvious. There were crinkles in the paper everywhere which means it had been tossed about a lot. I suppose she stuffed it in a bag and carried around with her for a while before giving it to you. Since the wrapping was haphazard and somewhat careless I presume it is safe to say you’re a boy. And even if we weren’t address the more trivial details that most people would ignore – the paper smelled of crisp and playful perfume. Your handwriting was too formal and your language was lacking a feminine touch. Moving on from all of this, though._

_You’ll find this novel very different from “Jane Eyre.” This is much more of a fairytale adventure than that piece was but the writing is every bit as phenomenal. You’ll still make connections to the characters and story, albeit a symbolic relation. Reading this will be next to impossible if you don’t allow yourself to be picked up by the story and transported to a different dimension. You must immerse yourself in the tale._

_Also, if you will, I would like to challenge you while reading this book. It is particularly lengthy by most standards these days. My father and I were reading it at the same time this past summer. Since he has a full-time job and I worked as a barista in my free he thought a race would be a sufficient competition between us. He is a lovely man in that respect – always challenging me to be better. So I am challenging you to read this book as quickly as possible without missing any part of the story. Let me know how fast you managed and I’ll tell you if you beat me._

_I won’t tell you how you measured up against my father, though. He cheated. Vacation days are definitely cheating but he’ll never admit that he took off of work to do it. That’s another silly thing about him. He bends the rules sometimes._

_When you return this book please take the time to at least wrap it properly. No used tissue smelling of expensive perfume – which doesn’t even smell good, in my opinion. I may seem rude for requesting this but it is equally as rude to do it in the first place. Besides, even if you don’t feel compelled to respect me as an equal intellectual please at least respect the literature._

_Good Luck!_

_Yours,_

_H. Granger_

* * *

Hermione slept well that night, dreaming of fishermen on the lake at Hogwarts. Mermaids were jumping onto the deck to reveal the fishermen as bad guys and to bring them to their watery graves; she was admittedly a sucker for a story about justice. After waking up Hermione grabbed everything she needed for her first two classes and shoved it into her bag, including “Moby Dick” and her letter. As soon as she was in her school uniform she scrambled out of Gryffindor Tower. She would have to forgo the luxurious breakfast in the Great Hall in order to leave the book behind for her mystery reader because was already anticipating the response. Hermione had reasoned the sooner she leaves it in the library the sooner her reader could get back to her.

She double and triple checked that her letter was indeed inside snugly tucked into the cover of the book. And that it was in the same place, just as “Jane Eyre” had been before. Once she was convinced everything was perfectly and exactly the same she started out of the library to the Charms classroom. Harry and Ron would undoubtedly be wondering where she’d been all morning. She would just make something up, or talk a lot first so they would tell her to never mind about it. Littered with so much excitement Hermione hardly even realized that someone was on the other side of the Library door. She nearly knocked someone off of their feet.

When she stepped outside she saw none other than Draco Malfoy standing at a distance with a grimace on his face. She unintentionally made eye contact and noticed for a split second he looked relieved. Confusion caused her lips to curl into a smile while apologized softly, “Sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t see you there.”

“No worries, Granger. A door isn’t going to kill me.” He mumbled kindly? Hermione was sure that he was speaking with a kind tone in his voice.

“A hippogriff might, though.” Draco Malfoy had a way of bringing out the worst in her, even when he wasn’t trying to do so. She had punched him in the face back in their third year when he tried to get Buckbeak executed for his ‘violent outburst’ which had been provoked by Malfoy’s cocky disregard for the proper approach. She pivoted with a fiery and unwarranted anger and started off in the direction of the Charms classroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco reflects on his encounter with Hermione at the Library during class while watching her very closely with her friends. He then hatches a plan that make more time for reading.

As soon as Hermione was out of ear shot and the door closed behind him he chuckled. In all their years at Hogwarts he’d only casually interacted with Hermione twice. In their first year they’d had been paired off in Transfiguration with members of another house. Since they did not have an established hatred for one another yet they made casual talk about their classes and schedules. The second time they ran into each other had been last year when they were both waiting in line at the Three Broomsticks. Draco had clumsily knocked his elbow into her chest when he reached for his payment. That conversation only consisted of fumbled apologies. Obviously, there had been other confrontations but those were a different classification of social interaction.

A smile plastered on his face as the irony of their exchange. She did not know that he was coming to retrieve the book she had obviously left behind. The trip was quick. He picked it up and then followed in her footsteps to their conjoined Charms class. Draco would probably be a few minutes late but there was nothing to worry about because he could almost guarantee that Potter and Weasley would wander in even later.

As he’d suspected, Potter and Weasley came into just five minutes after he did. Flitwick didn’t start anything until they’d arrived. In that time Draco had sneakily read through Granger’s letter. It brought a new type of joy to his life to have something to actually look forward to; he hadn’t really ever been challenged by his studies at Hogwarts. Each class the most difficult thing to complete had always been the writing assignments, and that was only because he found it tedious to write page after page of stuff he could more easily recite back to the teacher instead. Or even demonstrate!

And while he was thinking about demonstrations, he remembered that Flitwick would be demonstrating the spells the students would be working on from the next chapter of their book. Most of these were spells he worked on at home leisurely so his focus was compromised from the beginning of the lesson. As a result of this, Draco occasionally glanced over at Hermione Granger who was also only paying attention halfheartedly. When she wasn’t watching Flitwick her eyes were scanning the pages that correlated with each spell specifically. Occasionally she would absently scribble something in the margins. Draco knew that she was taking notes on Flitwick’s recommendations and tips for proper spell casting. He knew because he too took those notes. Everyone should be but when he saw that half of the class was either quietly opening chocolate frogs or was snoring he knew that saying something like that as a matter-of-fact was basically pointless.

At the end of class Draco lingered with the intent of  re-read Granger’s letter, but some others were slow to leave as well. Settled with the fact that he couldn’t enjoy her words again, he simply replaced inside of the book and made his way into the corridor. When he got outside of the classroom he stopped for a second to ponder the best time for him to start his reading challenge for “Moby Dick.” As he toyed with the possible options he overheard Weasley say his name which automatically commanded him to eavesdrop.

“Malfoy kept looking at you during class today. That’s weird, innit?”

“Oh, I stopped by the library to return a book this morning and nearly knocked him over with the door. We chatted, kind of. He was probably a bit put off by it.” Her response was airy and dismissive. He had to refuse himself the chance to smirk since he was so near to the Gryffindors.

“Chatted? With Malfoy?” Harry questioned his friend, obviously shocked by the statement. Draco even caught the three of them glancing over at him. Instinctively, he pretended to wave at someone before pulling a piece of paper from his bag, reading over the ingredients for a potion he’d included in his research paper.

“Well, wouldn’t you say something if you nearly knocked someone over? I was being polite. I was polite at first, at least. I may have made a reference to the hippogriff incident.” At that point she laughed openly with her friends before finally going to their next class. Slytherin students had this next block open. Most students used it to sleep or finish homework they’d neglected before, which almost the correct way to use the allotted time. That detail considered this meant that Draco had about ninety minutes before he needed to be at his Potions class. Then there was lunch afterwards which was another sixty minutes.

Fifth year Slytherin students were lucky in their class placement. It was actually even distributed. This afternoon, for example, was his busiest part of the day with two classes back-to-back. Those classes didn’t start until late afternoon, though. If only he could have that block designated to Potions he might be able to read a very large portion of the book. Draco thought about how Professor Snape was very close to his family, especially since Voldemort’s return. He made haste to the lower part of the castle to his next scheduled class. When he arrived at Snape’s desk a wicked grin crossed his face as the professor looked up angrily from his texts.

“Malfoy?” Furrowed brows indicated that Snape was both irritated and confused. Draco covered his mouth and made the fakest cough sound into his palm.

“I’m not feeling well this morning. May I turn in my assignment now so that I can get some rest? I would _hate_ to have to miss all my classes for the day.” Draco said all of this while he presented his work to Snape. A simple nod was all it took to confirm that Draco could get a healthy start on reading the book Hermione had left behind. Once he was out of Snape’s office and good distance away from the room he bolted straight to the dorms and didn’t even bother kicking his shoes off when he crawled into bed with “Moby Dick” cracked open.

Draco found himself enthralled deeply within the tale Ishmael was telling. There was something addictingly familiar about the character Ahab. Of course, he knew exactly what the similarity was. He was a part of a people pursuing the vengeful quest of a madman. The Malfoys were a family of Death Eaters devoted to Voldemort. Harry Potter, in a sense, was their equivalent to Moby Dick. Draco frowned as the hours passed. There was no way he was going to be able to finish the book before his next classes.

Finally, about twenty-five minutes before he needed to leave Draco broke down and put the book inside his bag. He needed to eat something before he went to class so he scurried down to the Great Hall to see if there were any late lunch snacks left out.

Just as Draco was entering the Great Hall he found himself searching for Granger. He found her sitting with Ginny. He could have sworn that she had a class right now but he didn’t know for sure since, until recently, he’d never had an interest in her life. A frown replaced his relaxed expression so as to maintain his character in her presence. Within moments he was seated at the Slytherin table with some of the older Quidditch members who were still lingering.

“Afternoon, Mister Malfoy.” The team captain, Graham Montague, spoke to him kindly. Draco sneered with a tiny wave of his hand, not because he was on bad terms with the team captain but because he was peeved about the interruption. Suddenly Draco catches Pansy placing herself directly next to Montague, whispering frantically that he had been feeling unwell that morning and missed Potions. Draco knew he couldn’t contradict the precedence so he rubbed his nose and faked a sniffle.

“Are you going to be in the rest of classes today, _Draco_?” Her suave voice which others might have found soothing he found irritating. And what was worse was that she made a point to call him Draco, not Malfoy. Not even his closest friends, Crabbe and Goyle, called him by his first name. Pansy was the only one and he hated it quite desperately. Naturally, or unnaturally depending on who you asked, he didn’t dare reject her. He was fearful of her wrath. She was a frantic and unpredictable woman now while she was infatuated. He was not keen on finding out just how much worse she got if she was obsessively angry with him. So he just smiled lightly at her and engaged himself in the unwanted conversation.

“I am.” Good, that was a good response. It was short and clear. Perhaps, even, suggestive that he was in no mood to talk to her. He was supposedly sick, after all.

“Do you want me to carry your bag? Or bring soup to the dorms for you?” She tried so hard to be nice. Draco did at least respect that about her. Pansy always did something pleasant for him without being asked, and she didn’t really do it excessively. He was levelheaded enough to hope that someday someone would return her feelings. After dropping his chin deep into his chest Draco pulled a bread roll basket to his face so that he can put something in his mouth for nourishment, and an obligation to manners. Manners which will render him silent, mind you.

“Oh, I know how you get. Fine, then. If you need anything you know I’m never too far away. But honestly, you should take me up on the soup offer. There’s nothing better than soup in a comfy chair by the fire.” Pansy reaches across the table and places her hand delicately on Draco’s chin. She pulls his face up swiftly and winks at him. For a moment Draco nearly forgets that he detests this relationship she’s created between them. He thinks maybe if she had asked him instead of obsessing over him to the point where everyone associates the two of them together as a couple he might not have felt such a strong aversion to the idea. But things cannot be changed, not after years of the same routine.

The remainder of his day passed by without joy and each time he had a free moment his eyes wandered to his bag where “Moby Dick” is hidden precisely at the bottom beneath his texts. He ensured to take deliberate actions to never reveal it when pulling homework out, putting homework away, pulled out parchment for notes, and all that. He had a close call when Pansy came over and tried to sneak a pumpkin pasty into his bag. But Draco took it directly and shoved it into his mouth quicker than one could manage to blink. Her dramatic laughter filled the room which drew so much attention that even Hermione Granger’s head jilted upwards to identify the raucous.

Draco looked directly at her by accident. He shifted is eyes as quickly as possible so that it looked like he was just scanning the other side of the room but he could tell by the way she jerked her face back down into the book on her desk that she had noticed. Things were going to be absurdly and increasingly awkward between them. She obviously doesn’t know that he is the reader she writer to but imagine if she did? What would things be like then?

At the end of the day Draco pulls Pansy aside in the hallway and leans into her. “I’ll take you up on your offer, Parkinson.” As he expected, she is just tickled that he has accepted. She plants a wet kiss on his cheek and runs away to fetch the soup she’d probably already had prepared for him. He moves swiftly through the crowd and goes to wait in the common room.

While waiting for Pansy to show up he threw together a short letter to Hermione. One of the standard owls had delivered a small package to Blaise so he simply held it behind spur of the moment. On his way back to the dorms he had decided that he should start alluding to Granger who he was, just to see if she could piece it together.

 

_Dear Granger,_

_I am still reading the book but I wanted to send a short letter for you._

_Even though this is only the second letter I am sending you I cannot resist the urge to tell you who I am. It is probably stupid to do this so soon but if I only leave little hints as to who I am then perhaps it will take some time for you to piece it together. So far you’ve guessed that I am a boy, or a man, whichever you prefer. I already told you that my girlfriend is not really my girlfriend. You’ll get your next hint when I turn the book back over to you._

_Until then, Hermione._

_Yours._

 

Draco shoved it in an envelope and sent the owl on its way before he could change his mind. No words could really explain what had come over him but he had been very compelled to make some sort of contact with the Gryffindor. And it felt irresistibly adventurous to have sent Granger a letter without actually have finished the book. As soon as the owl was out of side he shoved his hands in his pockets and accepted that whatever comes of his actions moving forward that it is his own fault.

Only a few minutes later he made his way back to the common room meet up Pansy came in with fresh soup. He entered the room just as she was sitting down in front of the fireplace. Before he’d left, though, he’d shrunk “Moby Dick” and kept it in his pocket. Leaving without it left him feeling naked somehow. Soon enough was sitting down next to Pansy pulling the bowl of potato soup nearer to him. Just as he was getting comfortable Pansy shifted her body to face him.

Pansy made an effort to feet him but Draco rejected her attempts. She began pouting while he ate but there was no point in letting it deter him. After about ten minutes Draco realized that the common room was empty and quiet. He looked around nervously and then looked at Pansy.

“Draco, can I ask you a question?” Pansy was batting her eyes nervously and messing with the hem of her skirt. Draco Malfoy was oftentimes closed-minded but never daft. As soon as she lifted her gaze to him he choked on his soup and nearly dropped the bowl on the floor as he placed it back on the table. He stood up and started walking away.

“Please don’t, Parkinson.” He was headed towards the stairs when she tried to attack him. Well, not really attack. She tried to petrify him so that he would stay and listen. Draco blocked the spell effortlessly and scowled at the young girl.

“Why don’t you like me?” Pansy dropped her arms helplessly to her sides and asked started to cry. Draco didn’t know how to handle it and remained completely quiet. “Just tell me why you like her so I at least know what I wasn’t giving you.”

Draco felt sick, legitimately sick, now. Shaking his head hastily was the only thing that prevented him from doubling over and puking in the common room. The young Slytherin was a seeker for a reason, and wasn’t just because he was quick on a broom. He made it to the bathroom and started vomiting in the nearest sink immediately. It had to have been twenty minutes later before he got his wits about him, even if it was just him slumped against the sink breathing heavily.

There was absolutely no way he was going back to the Slytherin common room. So he decided that he needed, and wanted, to relocate to somewhere more comfortable in order to finish reading the book. It wouldn’t be impossible to stay up all night. There was Quidditch practice tomorrow but he could manage. If necessary, Draco would put together a small energy potion if he needed. Strictly speaking, the students weren’t supposed to use energy potions but almost everyone did during finals each years. Especially fifth years around the time they take their O.W.Ls. Anyway, he got onto his feet and headed towards the Prefect’s bathroom for something more relaxing and comfortable.

When he finally reached the fifth floor bathroom entrance he mumbled the password. It didn’t respond at first so he repeated it louder, assuming that he was originally unintelligible. “Bathroom is occupied,” the statue informed him boldly. Draco frowned momentarily but then sat himself on a nearby bench. There was no harm in waiting.

After several minutes the Prefect’s bathroom opened. If Draco hadn’t been having a strangle couple of days he would not have believed that Hermione Granger was the person occupying the bathroom previously. He snapped the book shut quickly and sat it in his lap. Granger didn’t see him sitting there so he snuck inside before the entrance closed.

 

* * *

 

“Oi, is it morning already?” Draco stood up with the finished book in hand. He must have fallen asleep shortly after reading the last page. The boy was so groggy and tired that he couldn’t remember where the clock was in the bathroom so he just started on his way back to the common room.

Along the way he noticed that the halls were unusually empty. Once he passed a very full Great Hall Draco was able to gauge where they were in the morning process. People were eating breakfast right now which meant that he could still make Quidditch Practice if he hurried. As soon as he got into his dorm room he grabbed his school uniform before bolting off to the pitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this I cut almost 1500 words out.  
> Most of what you missed was an extended confrontation with Pansy. I also cut a section which explored Hermione's side of things that elaborated more on her schedule. Both extensions felt unnecessary when I went back to edit so you got this chapter as a result.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's reader finds a creative way to get her book back. It makes her realize that she has feelings for this anonymous boy she's been exchanging books and letters with the last week.

It had already been such a terribly long day. Hermione loved taking all of the classes but she was exhausted. She was nearing the end of her schedule but even then, she had to use her time turner to finish the day. She was so tired that she actually waited for Harry and Ron at dinner before leaving Transfiguration. She knew that at least today would be easy. Professor McGonagall wouldn’t be covering the grittier details about the chapter since the entire fifth year class would be together today.

Upon entering the classroom she noticed that her assigned seat had a package sitting on it with a letter. The writing immediately awakened her in a way that nothing else could have, it was the writing of her reader. Keeping her cool, she casually dropped her wand from her sleeve and flicked it at the items so that they would end up on her seat where neither Harry nor Ron would see it. As soon as she sat down she slyly put the book in her bag but she took the letter out and stuffed into the pages of her transfiguration book. She had a few minutes before Professor McGonagall would be ready so she hurriedly read her reader’s letter.

 

_Dear Granger:_

_I assume you can figure out what my hint is for you, but just in case you’re as tired as I am I’ll spell it out clearly for you. I am a fifth year as well. So you’ve now got together than I am a male fifth year. The girlfriend, not girlfriend, thing is completely irrelevant. But we can keep it on the list because I’m sure it’s distinguishing somehow._

_As for the book – I read it over the course of 24 hours. Although, I must admit I am certainly paying for it. I used every spare moment I had to finish it quickly. Even had to reread the last few pages because I might have fallen asleep while reading them! I would talk about it in more depth but I find myself in a strange predicament. Parts of the plot remind me of some personal issues I am facing in my life right now. All I wish to say is that I very much loved the story and cannot wait to see what you give me next._

_Yours._

 

Hermione folded the page before anyone could catch her. The reader had written so very little. She couldn’t be greedy, though, seeing as she received a letter last night as well. Her heart was fluttering without direction. This was so exciting! It had to be the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her, other than going to the Yule Ball with a famous Quidditch player.

Yet this was different, it was special. In a way, Hermione kind of felt like she had a crush on her reader; did that seem too ridiculous of a conclusion? Crushes seemed so petty and wasteful. Somehow, though, she was sitting here swooning momentarily over this guessing game she would be having with her reader.

Over the course of transfiguration she looked around and all the fifth year boys and made a mental list of everyone that she could identify by name. She had read young adult fiction back home, the silly teenage romance stories where someone fantastic secretly loves someone else who feels invisible in their everyday life. For a moment she thought perhaps that could be here but when class started back up she had to drop the idea because she started take notes in her books and on parchment when Professor McGonagall started assignment homework.

Her last classes of the day were tedious and required her full attention. Hermione returned to the dorms that night and fell face first into her bed and didn’t even think about the book. Actually, the following day was just like this. From dawn to dusk the bright witch jumped from one class to the next. And when she had an open block she worked through her assignments. It wasn’t until Friday afternoon when Harry sat down with her at breakfast that she realized how much time had actually passed.

“What day is it, Hermione?” Harry asked after patting her back. She pushed hair off of her forehead and looked around the Great Hall. People were dressed up for the Quidditch match that afternoon. It was going to be a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff game today which gave Hermione a moment of relief. Umbridge had cancelled class which meant she could relax a little bit after Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.

“It must be Friday. There’s a match today.” She replied hazily. Harry wrapped and arm around her and stole a left over strain of green beans from her plate. They laughed together for juts a moment before Harry pulled away.

“You’re going to make a great Ministry worker someday. You run yourself ragged all for the pleasure of saying you can do it all.” She would have responded but Harry was gone just as quickly as he had come. The moment of loneliness hadn’t lasted long, though, because a second later the afternoon mail was being delivered. Much to her surprise two letters arrived for her. The first from her parents, saying that she must return the purse because they bought her some new clothes and a new book while they were out shopping; she made a mental note to send the charmed purse back home for her parents to use.

Then she opened the second letter mindlessly, as though she were on some automatic function.

 

_Dear Granger,_

_Perhaps another hint is enough to wake you up._

_I am in the Great Hall as you read this._

_Yours._

“Well that certainly does me no good. Half the school is in here right now and I don’t have the time to filter out which ones are fifth year students.” Hermione grumbled before pushing the letter into her bag. Since she had a walk ahead of her she decided to simply finish her orange juice and leave. Along the way she decided that she needed to stop in the Library, though, because she had kept forgetting to bring a book back for her reader. Her unamusing, unhelpful reader..

 

_Dear Reader:_

_Here is a lovely read as well. It is even darker than “Moby Dick” was in some ways as far as the story is concerned. I am fond of the story regardless and wish that you find it equally as entertaining. I apologize if this letter is very short and dismissive but I admit that I am incredibly tired. There is a Quidditch game tonight, as you probably know, and I think I’ll have to skip attending it for a full night of rest instead._

_Yours,_

_H. Granger_

_P.S. You’re previous hint hardly did me any good. There were far too many people there for me to possibly pinpoint any fifth years in particular. You were not joking when you said you would give me little hints. Perhaps not that little in the future, yes?_

Harry and Ron were griping prior to the game about Hermione not going. She was already in her pajamas and headed upstairs. After ten minutes even Ginny came back around to double check and make sure that Hermione was actually not going to the Quidditch game. When it was only half an hour before the game was due to start she finally snapped at everyone and explained that she was very tired and just wanted to go to bed. Nobody questioned her after that and allowed her to sleep peacefully the whole night through.

Hermione woke the next morning with a smile on her face and a letter sitting on her trunk. Ginny was sitting by herself brushing through her hair patiently. Her first instinct was to grab the letter and ensure that it was unopened that would make it seem as though she doesn’t trust her friend. Instead she tried to stay calm.

“Did you see who sent it?” Hermione yawned her question as she got onto her feet and faked her way through inexplicable excitement when she saw the reader’s handwriting. She knew that that there was no possible way that her reader finished reading “Man in the Iron Mask” overnight. Not unless this person skipped the Quidditch match as well. And if this person wasn’t also exhausted.

“I think it was a darker brown owl but I didn’t recognize it. Harry says you’ve gotten another letter like that or something. Is there something you’re not telling us, Mione?” Ginny isn’t like the boys. She picks up on things straight away so it is hardly a shock to Hermione when her friend has questions immediately. Since she trusts her, Hermione decides it is probably time to let someone in on the game.

“I have a bit of an anonymous reader-writer guy friend.” Hermione doesn’t know that she may have picked the best words to describe the situation, but it certainly captured Ginny’s attention. She stopped what she was doing immediately and threw herself forward on her mattress. It was all very cliché girly time scenery, honestly. Once Hermione crossed that off her list of things ‘to do’ and added it to the one filled with ‘never do again’ tasks, she placed herself at the end of her own bed and began.

“I put one of my favorite books in the Restricted Section last week, actually a week ago exactly. I left a letter in the cover asking the reader to send the book back to me. Well the reader also wrote a letter back to me. After that I left another book and letter behind. Since then my reader had given me some clues as to who he is. It’s turned into a bit of a guessing game. I just left the third book in the library last night. Since there’s no package with this letter I can only assume he hasn’t read it yet. But that’s all there is to it.” Hermione really plays down how much this anonymous reader had affected her in one week. She might say that whenever she’s not thinking about school and her work she’s thinking about when the next letter will arrive. Luckily she’s been getting letters frequently and she doesn’t have to wait very long between them.

Ginny calls her out, “You definitely like whoever you’re writing to, Mione. What information do you have so far?”

Hermione adored that her friend was so straight forward. Growing up with as many brothers as she did there was no room for the frilly stuff that most girls wanted to mess around with when talking. A smirk brightened both girls’ expressions momentarily before Hermione recapped the information that she had.

“Well, open your letter. See what that has in it really fast. Maybe I can help you find out who this mystery man is.” The red-headed girl chirped sweetly. Her laugh was so genuine. It was funny to look at her and know she was so confident in herself and comfortable in her skin. There was not an ounce of bad self-esteem in the youngest Weasley child.

Following Ginny’s recommendation, Hermione opened the letter slowly and found yet another very short letter considering the weight of the envelope.

 

_Dear Granger,_

_Buy yourself a drink at the Three Broomsticks this Sunday. And keep a sharp eye._

_Yours._

Ginny had meandered over and was reading over her shoulder. A swift punch to her arm signified exactly what Hermione had suspected. There were half a dozen galleons sitting at the bottom of the envelope. Hermione dropped her jaw at the money in her hand. She did not need that much for a single drink at the Three Broomsticks. Then, all rather manically, the two of them squealed very loudly.

“Ginny!” Hermione shouted as she shook the envelope with the money in her hand. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen that kind of money, both muggle and wizard currency. It really wasn’t as much as she was making it seem. For just a drink? Really? Her reader was just giving it away freely as if they didn’t mind losing the muggle equivalent of fifty dollars!

“I think you’ve got more than an anonymous reader-writer guy friend on your hands. I think you’ve got yourself an anonymous boyfriend.” Ginny walked out of the room with hands behind her back and her hair slung over her shoulder. Hermione was left to question her statement alone as she fantasized about what Sunday might bring when it arrived. She felt back onto her bed allowing the letter to remain in her lap.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing goes the way Draco expects.

As soon as Draco was finished with his team’s scrimmage before the big match, he grabbed all his stuff and went immediately to the Prefect’s bathroom. Going through the crowds as they rushed out to the pitch was a nightmare but he’d suffer through it if it meant finishing his book on time. And of course, he was referring to his shenanigans with Granger and Hogsmeade. He’d sent her six galleons and a letter telling her to get a drink at the Three Broomsticks.

His ultimate plan was to go in before she did and leave her book with Madame Rosmerta, telling her that he had found it on the steps outside. Hermione would eventually piece things together when nobody showed up to meet because she is a very smart woman. So she’d ask at the counter if anyone had seen a young man reading a book titled “Man in the Iron Mask.” Rosemerta would pull it out saying a blonde lad turned it over. And that would be her next hint. Draco was so very, _very_ proud of himself.

But this all depended on his ability to finish the book on time. Sure, he had all night and all the following morning to finish it up. Unfortunately, he was very tired too. He was neglecting sleep to read books all week and it was finally catching up with him. There was only so far he could push himself to complete this particular task.

In the Prefect’s Bathroom he loaded up a bubble bath. He first got into clean up but then he felt revitalized and energized so he grabbed his wand from the side of the tub and summoned the book to him. He started reading for a little while to pass the time and found it very comforting. It seemed like such a girly thing to do, when he thought on it, but if it felt so nice then why bother shaming himself. Nobody else had to know anyway.

Eventually Draco had to leave the bathroom and return to the dorms. When he’d arrived there were only a handful of the younger students huddled around the fireplace. In his first year he never missed a game. It was, and still is, the height of excitement at Hogwarts. In fact, he had _never_ missed a game until this year. This was the very first Quidditch match he opted out of watching. It’s funny how little things can change your loyalties. Of course, this was hardly a little change.

His developing a slight fondness of Hermione Granger was next to unimaginable. If he could go back and time and tell himself when he was eleven that he would find himself fawning over Muggle literature and Granger’s handwritten letters – surely he’d have fallen down to his knees laughing. Yet here he was marching straight to the dormitories with every intention of closing the curtains and hexing them not to open for anything.

After each necessary measure was taken, Malfoy immersed himself in the book. Everything melted around him until all that existed was the dim light of his wand and the soft lull of drunken singing floating in from the common room. He didn’t even know when, or if, his mates ever showed up for bed. Page, after page, after page, Draco’s eyes absorbed ever word. He was reading as though he was dehydrated and the only cure was to complete the book.

Draco woke to giggling noises. Female giggling noises, actually. He bolted upright in his bed and found that he’d passed out about three-quarters of the way through the novel. He sat it face down beneath his pillow before breaking the enchantment and peering through the curtains surrounding his bed. Outside he saw Blaise pulled on his slacks and a dark-haired girl wrapped in his blanket. He couldn’t resist a smile as he pieced together that Blaise had clearly enjoyed the company of a female last night, if he were trying to put it delicately.

Just as Draco was about to duck back into his bed when the girl sat up. Just before the cloth blocked his vision he was able to see the girl’s face. He was able to see none other than Pansy Parkinson half dressed in he friend’s bed. This caused him to bolt out of his hiding place and point accusingly at her.

“What are you doing?” He hissed as soon as Blaise was out of the room. The two of them hadn’t really spoken to one another since Tuesday night’s confrontation. Now each of them were staring wide eyed with unspoken feelings. Draco made a fist and shook it at her before he turned around a few times in his place.

“You made it clear enough that we aren’t dating, Draco Lucious Malfoy! What business is it of yours to ask me what _I_ am doing?” She got up with the blanket still wrapped around her and started piling her clothes up on the bed. Of course, she was waiting for one Mr. Draco Lucious Malfoy to give her a response. And even though she was right and he should have dutifully placed himself right back in his bed - he opened his blasted mouth anyway.

“As if you hadn’t degraded yourself enough already!” Instantly he regretted saying it out loud. As soon as the words left his mouth she was in front of him, hand slamming across his cheek. But there wasn’t a single tear in her eyes. Draco’s vision was temporarily blackened because his cheek ached with the fire of her slap so finally he bent himself over. All the while she was mumbling at him.

“The only degrading thing I ever did was follow you around like a lost puppy thinking that someday you would love me back. Then after a week I seem to hit it off with Blaise that’s when you come in fists shaking and fingers pointed thinking I have to listen to you. Not anymore! You never wanted anything to do with me. I am not about to sit here and think that you care in the slightest. I am sorry but absolutely not!” Draco reached around to grab her by the arm but missed and slipped. Fortunately, Blaise had already returned and caught him. Once he was back on his feet he spoke very loudly, nearly shouted actually. 

“You are a good woman and deserve someone who will actually care. If Blaise will do that, fine! But don’t continue selling yourself short, you frantic mess!” Blaise got his wand and healed the bruising that was sure to develop along Draco’s cheek. Neither one of them addressed what had just happened, although Blaise certainly tried. He kept asking what he’d said to provoke her. Then he attempted to backtrack to Draco saying that he really had always fancied Pansy. None of it registered for long, though. Instead Draco simply waved it all off and lay back in bed. At least he was sure of one thing: Pansy Parkinson would no longer be his problem.

Finishing the book after that dramatic scene was too easy. Draco had all but closed himself off to everyone around him. He only responded to someone long enough to tell them to ‘shove off.’ The only times he left the dorms was to dine and shower. When bedtime rolled around Draco lay down and mulled over the letter he would be leaving inside the book. The book didn’t leave as much of an impact as the others, partially because of the distraction of impressing Hermione and the personal drama. Either way, he decided to allow himself some rest and prepare for the big day.

* * *

 

Wouldn’t it be Draco’s luck? Would it not just be his bloody luck to have slept over? He woke up only by chance when he heard Crabbe and Goyle arm wrestling. As soon as it registered that it was morning he had to dash around just to get his belongings together and get the book stowed away. This was by far going to be one of the most agonizing mornings of his life because if he was unable to secure a carriage that departed before Granger then he’d have to revise his plan.

Naturally, revising his plan at this point would be risky because there’d damn near be no way to get the book to granger without revealing himself far earlier than he’d ever expected. Frustration pulsed through his veins quicker than blood as he raced through the halls and out the school hoping that he hadn’t messed everything up. When he arrives he notices that the crowd waiting to leave is very small. Draco walks over to McGongall dreading the answer to his question.

“Tell me, Professor, am I really early or really late?” He attempted to hide his panting but it was nearly impossible.

“Technically speaking, Mr. Malfoy, you are really late. However, there seems to have been a miscommunication with the stables. Our carriages are running behind. You may join any of the carriages waiting if you wish, once full they will depart.” Professor McGonagall was always very precise when she spoke but never once sounded angry, which was surprising. As long as she’d been at Hogwarts and as many terrors she’s seen pass, Draco would have guessed her just the tiniest bit bitter. Each person was different, he supposed. Seconds later, much to his dismay, he was sliding in beside some third year girls from Ravenclaw who, until he arrived, had been chatting about their classes.

There was no such thing as ‘soon enough’ in Draco’s mind. The ride to Hogsmeade was horrendously long and quiet. As soon as they arrived he swiftly made his way to the Three Broomsticks. He cautiously peered through the windows to ensure that Hermione wasn’t there yet. Good, _good_ , Draco thought to himself. Very slyly he went inside and ensured that Madame Rosmerta hadn’t seen him. After all, since Draco overslept he hadn’t gotten the chance to write his letter.

Draco knew there were some stray tables upstairs near the rooms so he started off in that direction. Just as he began ascending the stairs, however, his plan was yet again burnt up in flames when he heard a familiar voice enter the shop.

“Do you really think he meant for you to come right away?” That was Ginny Weasley speaking, which could only mean that Hermione Granger was accompanying her. Not to mention the statement made was obviously in direct correlation to his letter sent the night before. He had suspected that Hermione would be sharing her “Dear Reader” exploits with her best friend. All of that aside, though, he stopped where he was at on the steps and waited to hear Granger’s response.

“I don’t know _what_ he meant. Don’t you think I might be able to catch him if I sit here all day, though? If we sit right by the front door there’ll be no way for my reader to evade us. I wouldn’t have to play this game to find out who it is.” Hermione Granger. She never would be one to fully relinquish control, would she? Draco should have known better. A frown perched itself on his lips as he continued to listen.

“Oh, Mione, you’re being a bad sport about this. We can grab a quick drink now to help your madness, then we can double back later in the day to see what mystery man has done for you.” Draco smiles and hopes that Granger sees the logic in the Weasley girl’s words. He would be most grateful if it worked. It would allow him to get his letter written after all.

“I am not mad.” Granger was hardly the unpredictable type. She was self-righteous to a degree, being unnaturally intelligent does that to a person, and it was showing quite well in that moment in time. Draco’s teeth ground together nervously as he continued waiting.

“If you are going to sit here all day waiting for your reader to pop up then you’ll spend most of the day alone. Besides, they’re having a sale at Tomes and Scrolls. It’s just your type of shopping trip, yeah?” Draco finds himself puckering his lips and nodding all in a matter-of-factly fashion. It did sound like the sort of thing that would actually lure Hermione Granger away. He is so confident in it that he actually started walking up the stairway again. Once he makes it to the second level he hears the last half of Granger’s response.

“…I’ll stay here for just a little bit and if he doesn’t turn up then I’ll head out.”

Well, nothing else was going his way so far that morning. Draco panicked since he had to do something now to return the book to her. She wouldn’t be getting the hint he promised in the subtext of last night’s letter now. After looking around a bit he found a pillar to hide behind and then took out “Man in the Iron Mask.”

As soon as he felt sure that the book was directly above Granger in her seat with Weasley he cut off the spell. Draco flinched before her loud cry of shock echoed through the Three Broomsticks. It provided affirmation that his depth perception did not betray him but it also assured that Granger received the book as it was intended, the book which had no letter inside.

“I suppose that’s one way to break it off, ain’t it?” Ginny mumbled angrily as she helped Granger out of her seat. Of course, Granger was shrugging her shoulders with disinterest. She did not agree with her friend, apparently.

“Or perhaps that was his idea of a joke. That’s probably why I was supposed to keep a sharp eye…” Then they were gone as quickly as the book dropped from the sky. Now that Draco felt completely deflated and worthless he exited the Three Broomsticks and went back to wait with the carriages.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets the letter she was missing in an interesting fashion. She must also address her feelings in order to move forward.

Hermione and Ginny spent a decent portion of their day in Tomes and Scrolls. Afterwards, Hermione went with Ginny to Spintwitches. Not once did she mention her reader during their activities for the day. She still planned on doubling back to the Three Broomsticks before leaving just to double check. The book didn’t have a letter and she refused to believe that suddenly her reader was not interested. Every so often she would solemnly admit that Ginny had more than likely been right. She shouldn’t have gone there immediately after arriving. But she had been so eager and ready to get more information that she could not resist.

At some point the girls ran into Ron and Harry. Harry opted to buy everyone something to snack on from Honeydukes. There was no real reason behind it because Harry did that sometimes just because he felt like it. Just as we walked inside Ginny made a comment about Honeydukes being a funny place to lunch. Everyone laughed. Hermione sort of chuckled while keeping her eyes on her feet. Being with all four of them always felt a little off since she wasn’t as good communicating to multiple people; bloody hell, Hermione could only communicate with one person through letters effectively. Everything else she did would barely get passing marks. Instead of feeling to pitiful about her social skills and the travesty of not having a letter from her reader she fell in line and finally followed her friends inside.

Everyone handed Harry a bunch of items that they wanted, Ron had handed at least seven different treats he liked to the poor guy. Hermione felt awful watching him stand there with arms full of snacks so she offered a helping hand with a smile on her face, “You are too nice to everyone sometimes.”

“You’re not!” Ron shouted from behind her. Her face molded into the usual expression of displeasure whenever Ron picked on her. Harry nudged her gently with his elbow while chuckling to himself. Over the years she liked to believe that Harry and Hermione bonded so well that they didn’t even need to speak sometimes to understand each other. They came from Muggle backgrounds, regardless of blood status, so they had quite a lot in common.

“You know he cares about you. _He_ just doesn’t know it yet.” Hermione wasn’t entirely sure she would like to know what Ron showing affection was like if this is how he treated her when he was moderately fond of her. That would probably be a nightmare! After about ten more minutes Hermione and Harry meandered to the checkout desk with at least two pounds of sweets; that was the result of Fred and George showing up and cashing in, of course.

As soon as the treats were disbursed outside of the shop Hermione felt a weird tingle in the wind. She immediately turned round and round looking for the source. Harry and Ron had long stopped paying attention to her strange dance, as she’d done it off and on during her third year when she first started using the time turner to get to classes. Sometimes she would come a little too close to her other self in the school and she’d feel it. This feeling was the same somehow, but not _really_ the same as if it were her own. She hadn’t used the time turner even though she carried it on her person all the time.

Stepping away from the group she reached into the pocket of her jacket and found that her time turner was still there. But her other pocket which had been empty feels heavier. She checks it and finds there is a folded piece of paper in it. As she begins to unfold it she sees the handwriting at the top and immediately gasps excitedly. Her reader had found a way to get the letter to her after all! So she had thrown a wrench in his plan, as Muggles would say. No guilt washed over her, though, because this was simply the greatest way to receive a letter she could imagine. She pushed it back into her pocket. As she did so the tips of her fingers grazed something at the bottom, something cold.

When she pulled it out she found it was a silver ring with a snake on it. This gave her the house in which her reader was sorted. Hermione’s heart sunk a little realizing now that her reader was a Slytherin. Not all of the Slytherin boys were terrible, take Blaise Zabini for example. He wasn’t nearly as terrible as the rest of them. She’d heard that he was quite the ladies’ man and he dated quite a wide variety of girls. Different races, different houses, different backgrounds. Blaise didn’t strike anyone as being prejudice the same way some pureblood wizarding families were, like the Malfoys.

A mixture of dread and thrill bounced around in Hermione’s chest. She put the ring back in her pocket before anyone had a chance to see her messing with it. Ginny announced that she and Hermione were going to go back for a quick drink at the Three Broomsticks before going back to Hogwarts. The boys all were already heading off on their own mission, though, and left the two of them to their own devices for the remainder of the afternoon.

“So you think your reader stole your time turner so that he could get his letter to you?” Ginny asked as she opened her third chocolate frog package. Hermione shrugged since it was just a theory for now. She had no true way of confirming that her reader had done it but everything she knew suggested that this is what had to have happened. The letter was sitting the middle of the table waiting to be read.

“I think it is a very real possibility. Professor McGonagall assured that I was the only student who had one. We had to get permission from the Ministry to even have it so someone else had to have used mine.” Hermione was holding it in her hands cautiously. She had told Ron and Harry about it, out of necessity, back in her third year. Telling Ginny came casually when she pulled her reader’s letter out at the Three Broomsticks.

She reflected back on when she first received the item. That entire year was her worst nightmare but despite how badly she wanted to part with the magical object she simply couldn’t. It would allow for her to achieve more academically and had kept it. Hermione never overextended herself the way she had in her third year, but she certainly took extra classes where she believe it feasible.

“Well, why don’t you read it before we go then? There’s no way we can pinpoint who might have done it. We passed too many people today to recount every close encounter.” Ginny was getting a bit short, but part of it might have been that Harry could be seen outside with Ron pointing over at Cho Chang. In the meantime, she did exactly that. The letter was unfolded and her eyes fell into the familiar pattern of obsessive reading.

 

_Dear Granger,_

_I apologize for not having this letter ready with the book. To my credit, you came too early. I was preparing to write this when you came into the Inn. Regardless, I had to think on my feet. Even though I was not pleased with how I got the book to you I am rather impressed by myself on managing to get the letter to you._

_Rumor had it some time ago that you use a time turner to get to all  your classes. If you’re half the woman I think you are I expected you would have it on your person. After sitting at the carriages moping for nearly an hour I decided to go back into town and try looking for you and your trinket. I was able to swipe it from you on your way into Honeydukes. Having read up on the time turner in the past it wasn’t difficult to use it. I wrote my letter quickly and went back far enough that I could get the letter in your pocket just as you were walking out of the shop with your friends._

_No more wondering, as I am sure that you were. Aside from your timing, I woke up late this morning and had to reformulate everything anyway. I meant for you to get the book at the counter with my letter inside and a hint from Madame Rosmerta about my appearance. Instead, I’ve left my ring with you. It tells you which house I am in which narrows the pool of people down significantly._

_I would love to read another book, but perhaps something lighter? After evading sleep relentlessly last week I would love to have something funnier and quicker to enjoy so that I don’t black out from exhaustion. Everything you’ve sent me so far has been brilliant, so please do not misunderstand my request. Same place as usual._

_Yours._

Well, wasn’t that convenient? Hermione got the answer she was looking for, albeit the same answer she’d already concluded on her own. An answer is an answer regardless so she didn’t pout much on the matter. She simply looked at Ginny and nodded. The letter was placed where it belonged properly, in the cover of “Man in the Iron Mask.” Hermione and Ginny finished their drinks quickly afterwards and headed back to Hogwarts to relax for the remainder of the evening.

Saturday nights were a hit and miss when it came to Hermione’s dorm. Either everyone came back or none of them came back. This was one of those Saturday nights that many of the girls dared to wander the corridors after curfew, and others dared to go further than that by staying in a _boy’s dorm_ ; Hermione dared not judge them for their decisions, though. At the end of the day each person had their own ideas and choices to make and she wouldn’t dream of telling someone else off for breaking the rules. At least, she didn’t anymore. Hermione quickly found being a prude did not earn her very many friendships. So now the only people she poked at for breaking rules were her closest friends.

Hermione had gotten into her pajamas and was rereading each letter from her reader. She had a tiny bit of a crush, the slightest attraction, to her anonymous reader but then she learned that he was from Slytherin. How did she end up in a situation where she could potentially like a guy that had the very high potential to be from a family that would never accept her? Hermione someone, in spite of her brilliance, found herself in these strange, compromising situations. She let out a heavy sigh as she scanned the request from the most recent letter.

A lighter read? He would appreciate something funnier. She had just the book for him, if that was the case. It was one that she’d seen her dad reading before she left. In fact, Hermione had been craving something along the same lines as well recently. Getting out of bed and fetching her ‘book’ purse, she reached her arm deep into the back. It was one of the only paperback books she’d had in there so she felt around until she found it. Once she was sure she’d grabbed it, out came “Lucky Jim.”

Hermione knew very little about it other than the fact that her father found it hilarious. It was her understanding that it was about a man with job he doesn’t like and a boss he can’t please. She’d asked her mother if her father was displeased with his job at the office but she laughed kindly and shook her head, assuring that there was no way the Dr. Granger would ever leave their dental group. Regardless, Hermione asked for it last time she wrote so that she could read it on the train ride back home, assuming she could return home for the holiday.

She walked back to the desk with book in hand and sat down with her eyes staring out the window. For a few minutes she second guessed whether she should even continue with this strange charade with a stranger who should probably hate her. Not to say that she should be hated for her blood status, being Muggle-born was hardly something to hate someone over. However, Hermione knew how the pureblooded families of Slytherin were from experience and she did not want to continue doing – well – whatever it was that she was doing – if it meant at the end she would feel and look like an idiot.

 

_Dear Reader,_

_I must admit that I have not read this book yet. My father was reading it just before I came to Hogwarts this term and I had plans to read it closer to the holidays. It would my pleasure if you got to read it first. Please tell me if you liked it and whether you believe I would find any amusement in it. Keep in mind that not all my standards are as high as the ones I hold academically._

_Also, allow me to be overcautious this one moment, if you will. I will probably sound mad, or desperate, or both, but I am dreadfully concerned that as a Slytherin house student you are doing this to spite me. I understand I am a Muggle-born witch and that may make me less than human to your family but that is completely inaccurate. I am a person. I have feelings. I am truly very fond of you and if this is a joke then stop now before you do irreparable damage._

_Yours,_

_H. Granger_

There was nothing else to do when Hermione was finished writing her letter so she grabbed a robe to pull over her shoulders. She may as well put the book in the library now since she won’t be able to sleep at all. Not with all the worry she had in her head now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets his next letter and book but finds more than he was ever expecting. In the words, and in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pure angst and I want to apologize. I really do but I think that every good story needs somewhat irrelevant and thick angst.

Draco had Quidditch practice most of the day Sunday. Nobody else had booked the pitch that afternoon so the Slytherin team just kept going. Drills, scrimmages, drills, scrimmages. It was very tedious and exhausting, so much so that when all was said and done Draco forgot to check the Restricted Section of the Library while he was doing homework in the Library. In fact, he hadn’t even thought about checking for Hermione’s next novel until it was bedtime and he was curled under his covers.

He had homework to do still so he would just have to grab it the next day. He didn’t have classes and because practice was so long today there was no need for a practice tomorrow. Besides, he believed that Gryffindor had the pitch booked anyway. Draco was satisfied and tired, so soon after he cleared up his thoughts he was out like a light.

The following morning Draco dressed more casually than he has in the past. He sported khaki pants and his house sweater as he went about his business for the day. Breakfast with Crabbe and Goyle, Snape invited him to assist with some troublesome first years during his free hour, it was his day to repair broken equipment for the Quidditch team, then lunch with Blaise (who had been trying to talk to him fervently about the Pansy nonsense). Finally after his very awkward lunch he was able to go to the library.

Draco stopped in the dorms to get everything he would need for the afternoon before taking his usual place in the Restricted Section. He sat everything down quickly before doubling back to the row where he would surely find a Muggle piece of literature waiting for him. Just as he was getting ready to turn down the aisle he caught sight of Granger sitting at a table where she could see the book shelf. His eyes widened and his heart raced at the fear that she would find out who he was earlier rather than later, and later was sort of the plan.

Stepping very quietly he went over to where the book was located and kept his vision angled so he could see Granger the entire time. Luckily, she was buried in the book she brought with her. Just to be sure that she didn’t suspect him of taking the book he grabbed the small one and knocked one several books beyond it onto the floor. Quickly shoving Granger’s book into the back of his pants he bent down muttering half-hearted apologies. When he was back on his feet he noticed that Granger was staring at him.

“Dropped it.” He lifted the book in the air with a shake. She snarled at him and went back to her work. The poor girl was so focused not paying attention to him that Draco was able to put the book back and relocate her book so that he could return to his seat. It was a very close call but he listened carefully. She didn’t suspect him it would seem because he didn’t hear any footsteps since getting out of sight. Granger must believe her reader couldn’t possibly be him. This brought a smile to his face as he pulled out her letter and began reading it, that same smile fading with each passing sentence.

* * *

 

Two days had passes since Draco read Hermione Granger’s letter in the library. He had not so much as opened the book beyond taking that letter out. Reading it had made him feel guilty and confused. She was _very fond_ of him. What did that even mean? Did it mean she considered him a friend? Did it mean she was _very fond_ of him the way Pansy had been _very fond_ of him? Obviously Draco had made several jokes outwardly before that he was quite the catch but in the face of Hermione Granger that meant nothing in the way it would to others. She was not the type of girl to be consumed by vanity and materialism. Every minute of every day the Slytherin pureblood struggled to grasp why he was so afflicted by Granger’s fondness.

During Transfiguration that Wednesday there was a demonstration quiz, so each student was being called up one-by-one to exhibit whether or not they had been practicing any of the spells they’d read about the week prior. She went in reverse order and students were not allowed to leave until everyone was finished. So the students waiting to be quizzed sat on one side and the ones who had finished were on the other.

Draco, naturally, was able to do the spell with no effort whatsoever so he sat himself as far away from everyone as possible. He pulled out the book Hermione had left this time, “Lucky Jim.” She described it as funny book about a man who has a job he hates and a terrible boss. Sometimes Draco felt like that, honestly. The status his family held oftentimes felt burdensome and his family was a curse in most respects these days. He loved them all but with the Dark Lord on the loose there was little reason to be pleased with his position in the brewing war. Perhaps he would relate to this story despite how irrelevant it seems now.

Just as he was tucking the book back into his bag he hears someone sit behind him. Before he gets the chance to turn around a hand is on his shoulder. He instinctively leans to see who is touching him; Draco finds instead a warm breath hits his cheek. A quick shudder blasts his nervous system as he pieces together who it is.

“I was rude to you in the library the other day. I know you hate me but I thought it proper to apologize. The last couple of days have grated my nerves but I shouldn’t take it out on others. Not even a low life like you, Malfoy.” Hermione’s apology is unexpected, to say the least. However, she used to be _very_ socially awkward. She still hasn’t got very many friends. So she finds herself trying to please everyone around her hoping that it is what is considered socially appropriate.

“I hardly noticed. I just thought it was your face, honestly. Didn’t realize it makes any other expression besides pissed off…” Draco asked himself immediately why he said that out loud. This was the woman he was sharing anonymous letters with; he was her “reader.” Then he says something like that? Inside he shouted at himself for being such a dunce.

“I guess I wouldn’t when you’re around, would I?” Hermione’s voice lowered as she accepted that the conversation was undoubtedly over. Draco really had not meant to be so rude but it sort of fell out. Almost a habit when she was around, wasn’t it? For years they were enemies, technically, so having a hostile reaction hardly seemed out of place. Yet he still felt as though owed something to her.

“Ought to change that then, don’t you think?” His voice was shaky and his body was numb. This was probably the riskiest thing he had ever done in his life. Just two days ago he was worried about Granger finding him out too soon, and here was thinking about telling her in the middle of class. He twisted around silently and looked at her, her eyebrows raised with curiosity and her lips in a straight line. Draco could see in her face that she was spending every free moment of her time drowning in her school work trying not to find out who her reader is too soon. And she really could, if she dedicated herself. She would have been able to find out in the library if she’d just checked the shelves. She could guess right now if she just focused.

Draco’s mouth hung open while one of his free hands touched “Lucky Jim’s spine. He could pull it out right now and leave it in her lap. She’d sit with her heart stopped and eyes locked right on him for the remainder of the class period. Or… he could get a grip and stick to the plan. This whole reveal was planned around a slow-building guessing game. He couldn’t tell her just yet.

So, after composing himself he poked his hand out. At first Hermione wasn’t sure how to respond but she shook his hand after a few moments filled with tension. Feeling her skin on his sent fire through his veins and when they locked eyes everything seemed to stop around them. Draco pulled away first but as soon as he started moving so did Hermione. The casual encounter was strange. Surely someone had seen them and thought it an odd sight. Regardless of that they went on their way for the remainder of the class period.

On his way back to the Slytherin common room Draco was stopped by Blaise Zabini. He said he wanted to talk to Draco about a few things. As much as he wanted to push his friend away and assure him that Pansy was all his Draco obliged his request and detoured with him down an unused corridor.

“Blaise, I don’t care that you’re seeing Pansy. Really! I’m glad to be rid of her.” Draco spat it out before the other boy could so much as start a sentence. There had never been any concern about Pansy not puttering behind him. It was great to see her with someone else who actually paid attention to her.

“I know. Actually, I saw you shaking hands with Granger. Only a couple of insignificant people noticed since most everyone was pretty well falling asleep. I just wanted to make sure you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into…” Blaise had a twinkle in his eye that worried Draco. It brought back the concern he had about Hermione Granger being fond of him and whether it was an attracted-to-him sort of fondness. Draco’s own feelings towards her were confusing enough without Blaise making it any more complicated with his questions.

“It’s not like that. She had been particularly rude to me in the library the other day. Poor sod came over to beg my forgiveness. I simply accepted by allowing her to shake my hand.” Draco chose his words and used his tone intentionally. By cockily responding with a dark grin he assumed that Blaise wouldn’t look into the matter further. He still didn’t look convinced, though. So Draco laid it on just a tiny bit thicker, “It is quite the honor for someone of her status to be granted permission to shake my hand. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Draco, you might be able to fool everyone around you but you cannot stand there and trick me. When you are ready to talk about it just remember you have an ally in me.” Blaise grabbed his forearm and squeezed very tightly before turning away. He lead the way back to the common room. Only a few steps behind him, Draco considered further what his friend was suggesting: a relationship forming between him and Hermione Granger. She didn’t even _know_ what was happening, not really. She didn’t know that it was happening with him.

But Draco wanted her to know, now more than ever.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's Quidditch practice gives him another opportunity to speak to Hermione directly. And he gets to show off his intellect as well!

After losing more sleep than he cared to admit replaying the conversation with Blaise and rereading Hermione’s letter, Draco found it morning time quickly. It seemed to go faster than he had even blinked. His arms stuffed the Muggle book away and put the letter with the rest at the bottom of his trunk. While everyone slept and he readied for another Quidditch practice, hexing his belongings so that nobody would go snooping. He was particularly worried about Blaise, the cunning gentleman he was, trying to figure out how deep this “fondness” was truly. Since he would undoubtedly be watching and reading Draco’s every move now.

Practice was tedious. Draco was barely managing to complete the tasks laid out in front of him. When it was time for him to leave and go to History of Magic, Draco didn’t even bother changing out of his uniform because he was exhausted. He went directly to the classroom and found himself far earlier than he had expected. Although, Draco had never before been so tired that he simply came to class without changing. He wasn’t sure exactly what he might have expected, if he were honestly. Since there was nobody around, he went directly to his seat in the farthest right corner of the classroom and began shedding some of his unnecessary equipment.

Once Draco was more comfortable he turned around and let out a deep sigh. Just as he was ready to let out an unintelligible growl to release some of his pent up frustration he scans the room and sees none other than Hermione Granger gawking at him. His brows furrowed as words fell from his mouth without his permission, “What you starin’ at?”

“ _You_ are _never_ here this early.” Hermione responded boldly. It was funny, actually. She was stern even when she was trying to be casual. Draco found it amusing enough to smile. It wasn’t the cocky the way his usually did either. He could feel that much and he wondered if Granger did too.

“How would you know, nose in that book of yours.” Draco descended the few stairs he’d climbed to get to his seat. As soon as he reached the lowest level, the base floor, he crossed his arms and stares hardly in the Gryffindor’s direction. His attention was turned to a Gryffindor girl of all people and yet he found it deviously comforting.

“I have peripheral vision. I can still _see_ things happening around me.” While she was speaking in her low, sharp tone Draco hadn’t stopped advancing on her. She doesn’t notice him standing in front of her at first but when she does she frowns. Somehow he knows that it is not a frown at him so much at a frown to herself; seeing as she’d just been speaking about this peripheral vision while failing to see him.

“Oh, but you don’t see everything. You don’t really _see_ like you think you do, Granger. I’ll tell you what, though. You’ll see, really see, properly one of these days.” Draco thought that he sounded more masculine than usual. He surprised himself. There was a high level of confusion in Granger’s expression but he had no way of telling from which part of their encounter it was originating. Since class would begin soon and others would be showing up soon, Draco bowed his head and silently went back to his place in the classroom. He didn’t want to risk anyone else to see him interacting with Hermione Granger casually. Not to mention, he was doing it far more frequently. Draco had spoken to Granger in some form or another more times in the last two weeks than he ever had in the years before.

Barely five minutes had passed before other people began filtering into the room. Much like Hermione Granger, he had taken up reading fervently until class started. Draco actually knew everything these history lessons quite well as it was a part of discussion at Malfoy Manor frequently. Everything from history tied into Lord Voldemort’s plans. And if it wasn’t that it was stories about the “old times” his father would tell to fill the gaps. Lucious and Narcissa, the good old days where pureblood status meant something; Lucious and Narcissa, the good old days when Slytherin was a house of riches and power; Draco had the heard stories from back to front and back again detailing all the “benefits” of his family. He still enjoyed reading from the textbooks, though, because the recollections were neutral. This is why his eyes were so immovably fixated on the pages which flipped by quickly as he absorbed the information _almost_ seamlessly.

_Almost..._

“Mr. Malfoy!” Professor Binns very rarely ever raised his voice which made this course even more boring to those uninterested by the material. So when his name was ringing loud and clear from the ghost’s mouth his head snapped up unwillingly, breaking his attention to the text. “Tell me, young man, who was the general accredited for winning the first battle during the Giant Wars?”

Draco furrowed his brows and felt his body go slack. The Giant Wars covered such a vast period of time that it was the _only_ thing they studied during the fifth year. There was going to be an end-of-year project where the students were expected to create a timeline for the entire bloody thing. Literally, from the first battle to the last! Fortunately, Draco knew exactly who the professor was talking about.

“General Voro. He was known for his vicious regime.” He sounded about as disinterested as any one student could be in History of Magic, which was actually quite the feat when you could look around and spot more than half the class dozing off. Some were even drooling on their notes.

“Tell me then, Mr. Malfoy, why is this relevant to our current chapter? During our last meeting we discussed dwindling resources and the starvation of an entire species. What importance could a vicious general, like Voro, be in this particular text?” Professor Binns was usually very well tempered and calm. His droning and monotonous voice could literally bore someone to death, an actual death, if he _didn’t_ try hard enough. Irritated with the professor’s sudden animation and fixation on him, Draco slammed his book shut to make his point even more clear. He didn’t just know the material – he didn’t need the book as a safety net when regurgitating such menial facts.

“Because during the famine it was General Voro’s victory in Nottingham with the goblins that he was able to secure transportation so that he could get supplies to his camps and the major settlements. Reasoning with goblins is a very difficult task, impossible _basically_. General Voro not only being a vicious beast was also more intelligent than most giants. He was capable of persuasion.” Draco paused to let Professor Binns to chime in and tell him he could stop. Shockingly, or perhaps it really wasn’t when put in perspective, the teacher simply watched him. It was clear to Draco that he was supposed to go until he reached a stopping point, “So General Voro saved his people in more way than one. Feeding them allowed him to continue building his troops. His large army actually gives them a lead during the war for a very long period of time. Eventually dies in battle, though, when some of his commanders rebel against him for using questionable tactics and old age.”

Professor Binns did not even acknowledge whether or not Draco was right, he simply continued through the lesson. A couple of his classmates grumbled or complimented his intelligence, but it wasn’t this that captured his attention. It was Hermione Granger glaring at him from across the room, a glint so bright in her eyes the only thing that it could signify was untamed curiosity.

As soon as class was over Draco ensured he was one of the last students out so that he could avoid the crowds, and also so that there was no way Blaise could sneak up behind him. He arrived at Potions right on time. The class period was filled with tedious note taking and apparently note passing. A couple landed on his desk, one from Blaise mocking him for his spiel in History of Magic. The other from Daphne Greengrass; it was a dainty sort of note telling him that she had a younger sister that was utterly fascinated by him. It also mentioned the “break up” of him and Pansy. Part of him wanted to turn and shout that they were never technically a couple anyway but he stopped himself. Regardless, Draco knew Astoria Greengrass and had met her on a handful of occasions during family outings, in the common room, trips to Hogsmeade. This also was not the first time he had been told that Astoria was fond of him.

Then Draco stuttered in his thoughts. He realized that he used the word ‘fond’ to describe someone’s attraction to him. Hermione Granger had said she was ‘fond’ of him. Here he was going right back to those words which had managed to consume in in just a matter of days. Luckily Professor Snape did not call on him during the hour to shed light on his distraction. Once class was over he did not hesitate as he’d done the class period before. Draco raced to Herbology so quickly one might believe h had illegally apparated there.

This class required hands-on activities today so Draco was able to successfully keep his mind occupied on the tasks in front of him. Of course, he was fraught with new worries when Herbology was over. It was his open hour now and if he didn’t find something to _do,_ well he would start thinking about that word again. Draco would drive himself mad rereading those words and imaging those words coming from her mouth directly.

Draco caught himself doing it subtly so he didn’t allow for his mind to wander any more. His feet carried him directly to the library to start work on his assignments. There was plenty of homework that needed to be done for the week and with the level determination he was developing there was no way there would be even a moment to think about _her._

* * *

“Mr. Malfoy.” The dull, monotonous sound of Professor Snape growling made Draco jerk straight of his seat. He ran his hand through his hair and nervously scanned the library. The fact that Professor Snape was holding a lamp in his hands and was not wearing his normal robes meant that Draco must have fallen asleep and missed the rest of his classes.

“Yes, Professor?” Draco deliberated if there was any other appropriate response to the unspoken condemnation which radiated from Snape’s eyes. The Head of Slytherin House would likely punish him for being so irresponsible. It would probably be detention. There would be no way for him to catch up on his sleep now.

“See to it that this is the _last_ time, Mr. Malfoy. If you are caught missing classes again due to a lack of sleep you will be removed from the Quidditch team. Is that understood?” Professor obviously had noticed Draco’s severely depleted enthuse. He wasn’t behaving as arrogantly as usual, nor was he behaving like anything in particular at all lately. Actually, Draco simply went to classes and did his work with little-to-no expression whatsoever. His face contorted into a questioning look as he asked himself why Blaise was the only one noticing the sudden change.

“Yes, Professor.” Draco’s tone changed to match the severity of the conversation occurring. Relief did wash over him, though, as he processed the fact that he wasn’t assigned Detention as a punishment. Snape then pivoted precisely and left the library, obviously trusting Draco to make his way back to the dungeons on his own. As soon as he had gathered all of his belongings he used the walk back to the common room to hatch a plan to read “Lucky Jim” before the end of the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy a sleep deprived and paranoid Draco? It's like a hangover of angst, sort of.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione decides that it's time to ask Draco for a favor.

Hermione was the last to leave most of her classes but was always the first to leave Divinations. She had dropped the class previously. However, she strove for academic excellence and she felt that if she didn’t understand that which she opposed then she was hardly the scholar she was aiming to be. When Hermione finally reached her destination just around the corner from the Great Hall in a dark doorway she noted one thing to herself. Draco Malfoy hadn’t been to their last two classes.

One thing she wanted to make clear to herself was that she did not _care_ that he wasn’t in class. Until recently she hadn’t interacted with him positively at all. But, he’d said something earlier that just got under her skin in a way that enhanced her paranoia about her reader. “You don’t really _see_ the way you think you do…”

Hermione pondered what that could possibly mean. Did Draco know who her reader was? As she thought about it on her way back to Gryffindor tower she concluded that he did, in fact, have to know who her reader was. Firstly, why would he even make such a comment if he didn’t know? Also, Draco was a socialite and very much the type of person who knew _everything_ about _everyone_ ; and if her reader was a Slytherin boy in the same year then there was no conceivable way that Draco Malfoy _didn’t_ know who her reader was.

Settling down for the night didn’t take much effort. Wednesday was her busiest day of the week, technically speaking. Although her classes were simpler than most on Wednesday there were so many of them that when she wakes up on Thursday morning she always felt as if she had not rested in the slightest. One thing that she decided that gave her peace of mind enough to sleep was that she would have to stage more casual encounters with Draco Malfoy to get his intel.

Sure, Ginny continually encouraged her to relax and let her reader work at his own speed. She was strongly discouraging Hermione’s pursuit of her reader. Each day that passed without the return of “Lucky Jim” the more frantically she discussed him. Which one was he? Was it a joke? Was he also fond of her? What did she mean when she said fond? Ginny swore to Merlin that Hermione had a huge crush on her reader, which wasn’t necessarily incorrect. Hermione had reached a level of obsession that had to be romantic to some degree. She was reasonless at times, illogical and panicked. Ginny said that Hermione acted like a girlfriend, and therefore _was_ _probably_ a girlfriend. Of course she had never been a girlfriend, not really. The closest she had gotten to “girlfriend” was when she was seeing Viktor Krum.

The next morning Hermione left bright and early for History of Magic. After all, yesterday had been interesting since Draco had spoken to her and had his intellectual outburst at Professor Binns. Harry had made a slighted comment about it during lunch but it didn’t go much further than that, since he and Ron hated him more than was really necessary. He was an awful person, no question about it, but hate like that was wasted on such a petty boy. Hermione learned that very quickly in her first year. Besides that, there were far more evil people and things than Draco Malfoy.

Hermione was inexplicably early, at least half an hour. She kept herself angled so that she could keep an eye on the door. Draco Malfoy had come in early yesterday and she was hopeful that he would do both again today. Ten minutes ticked by before the door opened. It took every fiber of her being not to bolt out of her seat to greet whoever was coming inside. She was very surprised to see that it was Harry and Ron wandering inside with pumpkin pasties hanging loosely from their lips. Her heart rate went down instantly and she fell back into her usual study pattern.

History of Magic passed by uneventfully. Hermione lulled herself into a calm state and forgot temporarily all about her reader and her mission to discover his identity through Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately, those thoughts resurrected themselves when she headed off to Defense Against the Dark Arts with _Professor Umbridge_. Going to the class was a chore and it was difficult to sit there, continually lacking the necessary hands-on experience that every student required. Reading, a good foundation to education, was not the only way to teach students.

In no time she was on her way to Charms, though, to do actual magic. Not to imply that she didn’t recite the spells and practice them in the dorms every chance she got. Everything was practically mastered at this point, at least what she was required to know anyway. Not to mention, Draco Malfoy was in the first hour of Charms for her. This meant she could watch him and observe who all he spoke to, because would he not insult the person engaging in any sort of Muggle custom with _her_ of all people. Hermione was sure that he would and therefore kept a close eye on him.

Much to her surprise, though, Draco had become somewhat of a recluse. His usual company, Crabbe and Goyle, were sitting a couple of feet further away than usual. He wasn’t passing notes with Pansy or Blaise at all. Blimey, Hermione didn’t even see him so much as take his eyes off of his book during the lecture. It was incredibly out of character for him.

In fact, Draco had behaving out of character for some time now. She wondered if perhaps something was happening, perhaps specifically at home, that was causing him to recede from his peers. This was something that she had done in her first year and was confident that she could spot it anywhere. His family was full of previously confirmed Death Eaters, so she feared that perhaps he was being directly affected by their decisions. Hermione could see how worn out the boy had become in just a few days’ time.

And that would make it easier to extract information from him. This was most certainly a bit mad and manipulative, but each day that passed that she didn’t know her reader allowed her question less about her tactics to discover his identity. Not to mention that Draco had done much worse to her and if she hurt his feelings trying to figure out her own problems then it was a necessarily sacrifice. After the hell he put her through in the past, did it not seem fair? Hermione would have to bend her morals a little but she knew she could manage.

When Hermione’s open hour finally rolled around she went to the library. Even though it wasn’t a part of her conscious information, she had realized over the last few years that Draco Malfoy spent a lot of time in the Restricted Section of the library. Hermione assumed that this would be an acceptable time for her to seek him out.

It wasn’t hard ‘stumbling’ across Draco in the Restricted Section. He was in a far corner under a flickering lamp. Hermione watched from behind a bookshelf for a few moments. The boy simply flicked his wand upwards and repaired the lamp without even speaking. Hermione was actually jealous. She _still_ had difficulty casting some spells silently. Professor McGonagall had told her that she was doing wonderfully considering how few witches and wizards are ever able to perfect that skill.

Hermione took her wand out and whispered ‘nox’ so quietly that Draco didn’t seem to detect the sound. He just silently cast the light back on while he continued to read the text on the desk. It was _effortless_ , _flawless!_ So then she knocked a book off the edge of the table near his arm. It was levitated back onto the table as quickly as it had gone. Unintentionally, Hermione giggled before casting another spell that slammed his book shut. Draco scoffed loudly as he pushed his chair back loudly to before  moving to address his aggressor. She went around the backside of the shelf as soon as he got on his feet.

Keeping herself hidden was a task because Draco had long legs and moved very quickly; hence his position as a seeker, she supposed. He looked all around and grumbled angrily about pranks under his breath. Hermione felt a rush as she realized that this was what she was missing out on by not participating in Ginny and the twins’ shenanigans. It gave her another bit of a chuckle which did nothing for her stealth.

“Hermione Granger? I should be surprised…” Draco mumbled from directly behind her. She spun on her heels and faced him directly with a shaky grin on her face. Unsure of how to directly address the statement she thought that perhaps she should state exactly what she was doing. Of course, that wasn’t what actually happened.

“I keep terrible company.” Hermione nodded.

“Only if terrible is synonymous with entertaining and immature.” Draco countered plainly. Exhaustion was still apparent in his face, particularly in his sunken and dry eyes. Hermione kept her gaze locked on his as the conversation continued.

“I suppose sometimes it would seem that way.” Her reply was softer. It was true, though. The forms of entertainment that the Weasley twins found in their pranks could border on inhumane and even illegal at times. And they hardly had a tasteful joke. Every single thing they came up with was more childish and mundane than the last. However, that made it no less funny to those around them. Hermione even admitted amusement to some degree.

“You didn’t follow me back here for revenge. So why did you take time out of your studies to find me?” Draco was very blunt and to the point now. There was plenty to envy about his social stature if one removed the fact that he was a pureblooded monster siding with Lord Voldemort due to familial obligations. His ability to interact with other people was seamless and natural and for a second made Hermione too comfortable.

“I seem to have developed a bit of fondness towards someone in the Slytherin house. Unfortunately, I have no idea who it is that I am dealing with. I write letters to him but he is anonymous. He wants to play a guessing game but I am crave knowledge and  am therefore impatient.” Hermione could not keep herself consistent. She was going to be honest at first but strayed from the plan. Now that she was sure she would just play it cool she was blurting out the truth. She was backwards and confused by her emotions and intentions.

Ultimately, Hermione decided that she should have worked up to the reveal of her intentions. Working up to it would have made much more sense. One thing she knew from her books was that when someone wants something from someone else there has to be an established trust and understanding. Hermione definitely hadn’t created that atmosphere and was sure that she wouldn’t get the answers she came to the library looking for…

“If you came here looking for information on your anonymous man is then you came on a fruitless mission, Granger. The only advice I have to offer you is be patient… _and use your eyes._ ” Draco insinuated again that Hermione wasn’t seeing all that was around her. This was his disturbed way of tipping her off, obviously. He was trying to tell her who it was without explicitly telling her who it was. It was exactly the sly sort of thing she expected any Slytherin boy would do. Part of the house traits identified for its members was cunning. And if anyone was ever to be the personification of true cunning she supposed it would have to Draco Malfoy.

His belongings were packed at record speed and his feet were carrying him out of the library forcefully. Hermione still had one more class for the day so she couldn’t linger. Falling back into the school schedule pattern, the flustered Gryffindor girl attended her final class of the evening so that once completed she could return her attention to the fact that her book had yet to be returned.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two words:  
> Drama Bomb.

Draco waited on the pitch for the rest of the team to show up. Slytherin usually practiced on Thursday evenings rather than Friday mornings but Montague had told him earlier in the week that they switched practice times with Ravenclaw because Gryffindor wanted another practice in before their game against Slytherin tomorrow. And, naturally, Montague wanted another practice as well. All of the captains and professors met up to ensure everyone had adequate time on the pitch and Friday morning was, rather unfortunately, the time slot that Draco’s team got stuck with.

Normally Draco would not have been too bothered by the change whatsoever. The only thing was that he _still_ had not gotten the opportunity to actually sit down and read “Lucky Jim.” He had had a couple of encounters with Hermione during the week and it was more than obvious that she was getting antsy. Draco had been doing so great about getting books back within days with suave letters. Unfortunately, this week was not going to great for him and he’d only touched the book long enough to put it into hiding.

There wasn’t much time to linger on the thought, though, because roughly five minutes later a scrimmage had started. For Draco this wasn’t much of a challenge as it was for everyone else. They went against each other and fought their hardest to win the mock game. When it came to Draco, he was at war with himself to beat his last find. So far this year Draco had been improving with each practice and each match. He would find it quicker; he would follow it slyly, always getting better. And today was no exception.

Montague ran the team ragged, running them through four different scrimmages. At the end of practice everyone was drenched in sweat and trembling. They hadn’t worked themselves that hard since the beginning of the year when everyone was being whipped back into shape for the season. Even Draco, who would usually practice every day during the summer, was worn out and ready to fall where he stood. Then, as luck would have it, Montague announced the best news he’d heard all week.

“I spoke to Professor Snape this morning and managed a pass for your remaining classes. Those of you who have tests, I’m talking to you sixth years, will have to take them Sunday afternoon in the library. I will hold a study session beforehand in the Great Hall for breakfast. Any questions?” Draco smiled to himself. Very frequently Slytherins were seen as maniacal and aggressive individuals but Montague always challenged the standard. He cared about his team and their grades. There was a very good reason that he was the captain. Everyone dispersed high-fives and hugs were passed around. As soon as the polite gestures were all exchanged he used what energy he had left to bolt directly to the dorms to retrieve his book. He could have to Hermione by the end of the week yet!

It was definitely not the most hygienic decision of his life, but once Draco arrived in the dorms he sealed himself in his bed until he finished reading “Lucky Jim.” Sure he smelled a bit off and his clothes were now cold from the sweat that still lingered. He hadn’t even taken off his guards, actually. Draco merely plopped himself down and started flipping through the pages, hungrier than he’d ever been before. Not only to enjoy a story before Granger but also because he was dying to writer her back.

The story followed a young gentleman by the name Jim Dixon. He was apparently the equivalent of a Professor Binns for Muggle’s higher education system, which probably was not the most interesting job, he could imagine, in Muggle society. His boss was another gentleman by the name of Welch. As the story proceeds it becomes apparent that the Welch family which Jim Dixon works for is full of prudes who believe they are superior to him. Draco immediately identified his family with the Welches and became somewhat shamed by the fact that he clearly behaved erroneously to others.

In addition to comical dialogue and event sequencing, there’s a bit of a romantic flub occurring between characters as well. It seems Jim Dixon has associated himself with this suicidal woman out of guilt more than any sort of true attraction. In actuality it comes to fruition that he has feelings for the Welch’s girlfriend. This seems pretty spot on since Mr. Welch is being as unfaithful as any one person could manage. Draco decided to pay attention the romantic story closely since the situation really felt _relevant_ to him presently.

Once Draco closed the book several hours later he sighed. Jim Dixon hit rock bottom with a drunken speech but managed to somehow get a better job in the same city that his new girlfriend which he nicked from the nasty Welch gentleman. Everything worked out quite nicely actually, which left Draco feeling truly satisfied with the story. The impact of the novel was different than the others since it was a much lighter of a read than the other three pieces. It was exactly what he asked for and he was not disappointed. With great care, Draco lifted himself from his bed and undid his charms, allowing him to move effortlessly to the desk provided to them.

 

_Dear Granger:_

_Allow me to apologize for the delay in returning your book and responding to your letter. Reading through the first few books deprived me of sleep so much so that I nearly got put in detention for neglecting my priorities just to finish the next page. But I happened across the opportunity to finally sit down and read through your father’s book._

_I rather enjoyed “Lucky Jim.” Now, please try to follow me as best as possible because I will be responding directly to your concern that I am not taking this bond between us seriously. There is some romance in this book. In it I feel as though I related to Jim Dixon. And, if I may be so bold, I almost felt as though you were the character Christine Callaghan. This does not refer to personality traits by any means, for I am not even half the man that comprises Jim Dixon. I advise that you read the story if you can manage. Once you’ve finished you may leave another book for me to read. I will read anything you give me and I will check the library daily for the next adventure._

_I meant to come up with another hint for you but I feel as though I’ve already given two to you in this letter. You will see it if only you know where to look. Until it is my turn to read again…_

_ Fondly _ _yours._

 

Draco was pleased. He trusted that Hermione would start analyzing the words of his letter. He revealed that his physical state was exhausted. And if anyone looked more beaten down than him in the Slytherin house then he probably needed glasses. Plus he if she was paying close enough attention she’d know that the only fifth year Slytherin missing in classes was him. She was too anxious to miss little things like that, so long as she didn’t linger on the fact that he basically said that he was a bit attracted to her. That was a confession, and not just to Hermione but to himself as well.

Over the last couple of days he had the chance to really analyze how much he cared. About the books, about the letters, about making a good impression on Granger; he literally lost sleep over it. It did cross his mind how much of a disgrace he might seem to his family were they ever to find out about his interest in a Muggle-born witch but at the same time he found himself responding to such concerns with  “so what” attitude. Draco Malfoy was no only smart but he was talented too. Pompous as he seemed, the boy was completely aware of what he could do as a Quidditch player. He was intelligent enough he could be an Auror if he chose. Not to mention he could even be a Professor. It all just came down to ambition. Draco was sure if his family ever disowned him for his romantic decisions then he could easily reestablish himself.

And when all of it as considered it really allowed for Draco to see that he had come to like Hermione Granger very much…

After he reminisced on the feelings from the last few days Draco managed to get himself around enough so he could stop by the owlery after a much needed shower. A small bag was packed with a change of clothes and his package for Granger. Once he was settled on his route he left the dorms.

* * *

“Draco!” Pansy whooped as she entered the common at the exact same time that he was trying to leave, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually.”

Draco felt obligated to listen. After all, he had led her on for years. He owed her some sort of kindness that was not in the form of shouting. When she came over to him, close enough that he could inspect every aspect of her expression, Draco could see very plainly that she was much happier. At least she didn’t end up in another unfulfilling relationship with a stuck-up Slytherin. Draco knew everyone pretty well and understood that every single one of them would normally have taken advantage of a clingy girl like Pansy Parkinson, even worse than he might have done.

“I guess now is as good a time as ever to apologize for shouting at you in the dorm the other night.” His voice was sullen and disinterested, which happened completely out of habit. Pansy had this negative effect on him that turned off his common courtesy. It wasn’t her fault, though, so he made sure to place a weak smile on his lips to compensate for the natural reaction.

“I know you better than you give me credit for, Malfoy.” Pansy reached out and touched his elbow politely. As soon as she did it she recoiled instantly rather than lingering as she once did. Draco shrugged at her and glanced away, signifying that he really wasn’t in the mood to talk to her any further. She doesn’t take the hint, though, and continues talking to Draco anyway, “I won’t keep you but I did want to let you know that I’m not angry with you anymore. I was at first but people tried to telling me and I ignored them. We all learn our lessons.”

“You’re a good person, Pansy. Better than I ever have been…” He pretends to be a part of the conversation as he always had done with her. She noticed right away and nodded to herself.

“That is true but don’t undercut yourself. There’s someone out there that will give you a reality check and humble you. Be it a good friend or the love of your life, that person will change you.” Pansy is always so cheery when she speaks and her optimism sometimes spilled over to those around her. Draco found that he was honestly grinning. After he waved her off Draco left the common room with Pansy’s words lingering in his mind.

Draco reflected over the prospect that someone could change his entire demeanor. Someone who could make him a different person entirely; Pansy had managed that with Blaise. She was more realistic, he could tell just by one conversation with her. He began wondering what changes he would experience once Hermione realized who he actually was, which could be any day now that he was returned “Lucky Jim.”

That brought some his deepest fear to surface as well. How would Hermione react once she realized that Draco Malfoy was her reader? If she did not reciprocate the attraction that he had developed he was fairly certain he would crumble. As he headed up another flight of stairs immersed in his thoughts he accidentally ran into someone who was racing down. For a second he considered just going forward but he turned around last second with the awareness that the former would be incredibly rude.

“I’m sorry.” Draco mumbled as he reached down to grab some of the belongings that fell out the individual’s bag. While doing so he dropped his own bag allowed for his package for Hermione to fall out. As he reached out for it the other person swiped it right from beneath his fingers.

“It’s you…” The only thing that would have been worse than having Hermione find out he was her reader by accident was her best friend finding out instead. And this was the voice that Draco heard. When he finally looked up to the person he’d sent crashing down the steps he found none other than Ginny Weasley.

“You mustn’t say a word, Weasley. Please…” Draco pleaded for her to keep her mouth shut on the matter. She handed the book back to him with a snarl. Before he could get another word in edgewise, the fiery young woman took off in the opposite direction once more


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out that Hermione likes poetry.

Hermione and Ginny sat together in Great Hall while Ron and Harry chattered about the game that morning. Every so often Ginny would get a very angry and distant grimace upon her face that alerted Hermione. She had gotten her book back last night in the tower but when she tried to address it with Ginny she claimed to have not felt very well.

“Eat some eggs. It will help if you’re coming down with something, or if you just had too much ale last night.” Hermione whispered so not to grab Ron’s attention. Her eyes unconsciously glanced up at him to comfort herself that he was still engulfed in the Slytherin-bashing nonsense they babbled about. As soon as it was clear he wouldn’t pay any attention to her she returned her attention to Ginny.

“Not that sort of sickness, ‘Mione. I wish I could talk to you about it but it’s the sort of thing you can’t make yourself talk about. You know, like how you don’t talk about liking the way Ron laughs or how adorable it is when Dad makes him tend to the grass using a Muggle’s push mower.” Ginny has this tiny sort of voice when something is really bothering her, and Hermione heard it perfectly in those words. Unfortunately, Hermione always took the tone as a warning that the topic she was breaching was not exactly her realm of expertise. As a result she scooted nearer to her friend and slung an arm over her shoulder.

“I won’t make you say a word more _but…_ you have to promise to not complain about my reader when I bring him up.” Hermione transitioned as seamlessly as an awkward person like her could manage. Ginny shrugged her away. In fact, Hermione would have sworn that she looked even angrier once she had wriggled free. After she decided to disregard it she excused herself from the table, noting that she had a quick stop to make at the library before the game.

The night before she’d gotten the book back from her reader and it made her more curious than ever to finally know who he actually was. A professed interest in her was obviously the most alluring part of the entire arrangement but equally so was the wicked chase he had set her on. There were clues left behind and she would have to start watching each and every fifth year Slytherin even _more_ closely to determine which one was her actual reader. She’d have to schedule a run in with…

“Draco Malfoy… in the library… on the day of a Quidditch game? That seems very out of place, wouldn’t you say?” Hermione was stunned to find him in the library rather than eating a hearty breakfast before his big match. All of the Quidditch players took the game seriously but she was positive that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy took the game far more seriously than anyone else in the entire school by a long shot. Especially when they were playing against one another!

“It is far more ordinary than you would think, actually.” He responded with an air of mystery surrounding him. There was something about his response that distracted her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but she nearly had forgotten that speaking to Malfoy could help get her some answers. Thankfully she collected herself enough to get back on the right track in their conversation.

“Well, I don’t suppose you’ve thought further on my inquiry. The one about my reader?” As she spoke to him she carried herself to a table where she intended on preparing the letter for her reader’s next book. It was not so much a novel as it was a book of poems. Well, it wasn’t even technically a book. It was a journal. She had taken up the hobby of copying poems from books and newspapers and magazines that she was very fond of, and since she felt very connected to her reader she thought it an intimate gesture to share such a personal item. Hermione also believed she could most likely trust her reader with her mostly-secret obsession with poetry.

“I have thought about it plenty, actually.” Draco placed himself in the seat directly across from her. Having him there, so near, had made her very self-conscious so she left all her belongings in her bag on the chair next to her. She would not be able to write with him staring at her. Neither would she be able to sit comfortably wondering how badly he was judging her with his curious eyes. Then, with crossed arms, she leaned forward while tracing Draco’s shape from his wrists to his eyes.

Firstly, she had admitted was that he was very sharp. He looked every bit as wealthy as he actually was which definitely worked in his favor. Hermione believed him to very handsome. However, being an attractive person meant if that person had a _terrible_ personality. She found herself momentarily silent as she took in his eyes, a pure oceanic color. It reminded her of the shallowest water on the beach; a barely recognizable shade of a blue in the sunlight.

What was she thinking? This was Draco Malfoy and he was a tool - not a painting. She should not have been gawking at him; she should have beeen interrogating him for information.

“And what have you concluded then?” With pursed lips she watched him carefully waiting for his arrogant personality to shine through in his chiseled features. Nothing happened to his face when she spoke, at least not right away. His eyes twinkled a little bit but his cheeks did not rise, his lips did not curl, and his brows did not wrinkle. Draco just kept his gaze locked on her and did not react. He did not even move except to whisper his response.

“That you aren’t looking.” When he stood up with his cavalier poise he was as expressionless as ever. Hermione felt herself watch him as he left to meet with his team, no doubt. For whatever reason she smiled after the encounter, allowing the conclusion to arise that Draco must be _very_ close to her reader.

 

_Dear Reader:_

_I am giving you a collection of my favorite poems. They vary in topics and genres since they are just copied pages taped into a journal I’ve kept for years. It is the single more personal item I own. I’ve written all over the place in this book and it truly reveals who I am at heart. I am entrusting you with this item after reading your last letter. Please do not betray me._

_I have not read “Lucky Jim” yet but intend to read it after the Quidditch game today. Since your house is playing mine I can hardly wish you luck, but I can hope at least that none of your teammates are very damaged at the end. May the best team win, I suppose. Keep an eye out for another letter in the library. If I finish my read before you finish yours I will surely be leaving another letter behind._

_Fondly yours as well,_

_H. Granger_

 

As soon as Hermione convinced herself to leave her beaten and worn notebook behind she had to jog just so that she wouldn’t turn back around and change her mind. The closer she got to the Quidditch game the easier it had been to drown herself in the shouting and cheers for everyone’s respective teams. The farther away from the library she was the easier it became to let herself relax on the “reader” complex she’d developed, even if only for a brief period of time.

* * *

 

“Draco, you’re late.” Montague growled as Draco stepped in just as the announcements for the Gryffindor team began.

“I stopped in the Library to return a book. I got sidetracked. It won’t happen again.” Even though Montague was irritated, and for good reason, he curtly bopped his face downward in acceptance. It was a completely believable excuse since Draco really did spend quite a lot of time in the Library. As his captain took his place at the front of the line their own announcements began, each of them flying out as their names were called with their positions.

In no time the balls were let loose and everyone whirred about. Draco kept his eye on Potter, waiting to see if he would move towards the Snitch. He had actually spotted it twice but this early in the game, the pesky ball would still be particularly difficult to chase. If Harry thought he could take a chance in grabbing the snitch then there was good enough reason for Draco to try to do so as well, unless a better opportunity arises sooner.

It seemed not a minute later when the Snitch whizzed past his face. Potter came flying directly at him so he forced himself to do a bit of a backflip. Seconds later he felt himself diving lower than he’d intended, swooping several feet below the Smitch. It swirled about in every which way imaginable. About the same distance above the ball as there was below it there was Potter also chasing the Snitch. Occasionally they glared at one another, definitely ordinary for them. As they came up on the tower holding the professors at Hogwarts, Draco swerved around the structure knowing that traditionally the Snitch would do one of two things; 1) it would fly under the skirting and come out just behind the seats near the ground, or 2) it would hang immediately left or right and continue weaving around.

Luckily, Draco went with his gut instinct and raced forward so that he would be waiting only inches above the ground for the Snitch to appear. As soon as there had been the faintest fluttering of the fabric his right hand flew forward. As soon as he blinked, the Snitch zoomed out directly at him but he missed with his right hand by barely an inch. Fearful that his slow reaction would lose the match he jumped sideways off of his broom in a panic just to entangle the prize in his robes. The ball could be felt moving around his uniform until finally Draco wriggled his hand up his left sleeve and activated the mechanism which shut down the ball. When he looked above him he could see Potter cursing him for capturing the Golden Snitch to win the match in less than twenty minutes.

He couldn’t resist himself even though the victory was less than ideal. Draco still had had a smug grin planted on his face as he lifted his mint-condition broom from the dirty grass and pranced back on the field with the Snitch held high above his head. Claps boomed all around as the announcer shouted about records and congratulations while Gryffindor lazily proclaimed ‘good game’ to their opponents. When all the on field celebrations died down, Malfoy and his team relocated to the locker rooms.

“Nice job, Malfoy!”

“That was a new best!”

“You won it for us!”

“Best Seeker in ages!”

The compliments rained down on him and each was accepted silently, or as nearly as possible. Draco had gotten lucky, when it came right down to it. What sort of proper seeker catches a snitch in the sleeves of the game robes? Sure, nobody on his team would complain; nobody in Slytherin house would complain, but it still wasn’t proper. Draco knew he was better than that catch.

It took hours for Malfoy to make it back to his dorm due to the common room commotion. It seemed that when he was making his way through everyone stopped him to offer a drink or a snack. Each kindness was politely declined until he cleared the crowds. Once at his door a feel in the air alerted Draco that perhaps his dorm was not empty. And it was because Blaise was sitting on his bed waiting for Draco, it would seem, arms crossed and lips curled upward. In no time his friend complimented his performance in the Quidditch match. When he was welcomed with Malfoy’s silence he switched to the true topic at hand.

“What sort of Seeker skips out on his own celebration party if not the sort that is unhappy?” Blaise asked after lifting himself from the bed. Draco tossed his bag onto the pillow as his mate came over and repositioned himself directly across from the blonde boy on the other side of his bed. A frown decorated their faces in separate unique ways. Blaise, in disappointment; Draco, in frustration at Blaise’s disappointment…

“By now half the house will be feeling the effects of their butterbeer and ale. Besides, how sad can it be to do something one enjoys over losing themselves in a sea of half-conscious acquaintances?” Draco felt as though he always produced an insightful comeback. And this was the sort of statement that Blaise could relate to personally. Zabini had never been quite like other Slytherin students, always being somewhat of a recluse.

“And what of sorrow surfaced when one falls in love with a stranger?” Blaise cooed deliberately, calmly, and kindly. There it was now, dropped out into the open in a way that commanded some sort of acknowledgement. Even though both young men relaxed their shoulders their jaws tightened in response to the tension. The word ‘love’ had been thrown out into the open and neither could have been sure that it was appropriate.

“A woeful tale as such could be unmatched. It is hardly a pity to not know, wouldn’t you agree?” After he concluded that the conversation need not go further, Draco went on the defensive. He made it clear that he did not believe himself to have been falling in love with a stranger. Even if had been, she was not technically a stranger wither. Regardless his words hissed so angrily that his friend understood that there was little more to be discussed. After rounding the trunk at the end of the bed his arm smacked Draco’s back once before leaving. As soon as all was clear he placed himself in his charmed fortress.

Draco hadn’t gotten the opportunity to read the letter before the game so he was experiencing the thrill of Hermione’s words without distraction. Poetry. He had not necessarily expected poems but he was also a bit taken aback that she was giving him poems to read. Even more so, these were her _favorite_ poems. Favorite poems that she was providing to someone she’d replied to with “fondly yours.” Nothing could have been more weakening and strengthening in the young man’s mind.

Without a lick of hesitation the first page is pulled back and the first poem revealed; a little number by a person known as J.R.R. Tolkein. Hermione noted in the corner page that she must make time to read a series written by him as well. The letters are clean and concise, as one would expect the first page of any journal or diary to be, but more than that the words are full of interest. You can see it in the way her letters curve. Draco smiles before reading the poem titled “All that is Gold does not Glitter.” The title alone reminds him of his family’s wealth and his frequent displeasure regardless.

Hermione made another note at the bottom about young boy she met at an opera. His name was Harold Ellsworth (the fourth is underlined several times next to it) and he’d bragged to her about his extreme wealth. He had his own guest house for sleepovers and parties. To top it off the boy was only eleven years old. Draco felt a bit ashamed as he identified the disgust in the boy’s behavior towards Granger as having been a replica of his own dastardly attitudes growing up. Simply because one has wealth does not make them happy and worst of all, Hermione understood, these are the people who learn this lesson last.

For several pages after that there are poems of friendship, of death, of life, of aging, and of war. She had not been wrong to say that all sorts of topics were addressed. Each one had a comment or a note, even if only to remind her that it was an American poet. Sometimes she included Chinese proverbs or strips of white paper which she stated were from “fortune cookies from the wonton truck.”

The next truly notable poem that Draco caught himself rereading a dozen or so times was titled “Count That Day Lost” by an English Poet, George Eliot. Hermione must have originally left pages following it blank intentionally. Every other line had a date on it and one sentence that followed it.

 

_9/1/1991 – Repaired Harry Potter’s glasses on the train ride to school._

_10/31/91 – Took blame for letting in a troll I had nothing to do with._

_6/23/92 – Did all of mum’s cleaning while she gardened with Gran._

_9/30/92 – This is the last time that repairing Harry’s glasses counts._

_12/24/92 – I had my parents buy Ginny some new clothes for the holidays, she needs them._

_5/8/93 – I’ve just found the answer that will help save everyone at Hogwarts._

_7/12/93- I volunteered at an animal shelter in France – and did not speak English once!_

_11/16/93 – I have not hexed Ron or Scabbers although they most certainly deserve it._

_6/7/94 – I helped save Sirius and Buckbeak._

_8/20/94 – I helped Mrs. Weasley with her cleaning after I arrived so she could enjoy her time off proper._

_11/9/94 – I made plans to dine with Ron in Hogsmeade._

_11/10/94 – I’m helping Harry with the tournament._

_11/11/94 – I didn’t shout at anyone for making me their owl._

_12/26/94 – Snogging brings a smile to one’s face. You’re Welcome & Thank You, Viktor._

_6/2/95 – Rita Skeeter cannot ruin peoples’ lives any further!_

_7/3/95 – Ron doesn’t notice but I have cleaned up his room at least twice this week._

_8/12/95 – I helped Ron with some spells to use on the twins against my better judgment._

_9/13/95 – I apologized for nearly toppling over a boy that I punched in the face two years ago._

_9/14/95 – I tabbed the pages which have the answers to the Herbology test for Harry and Ron._

_9/22/95 – I managed to apologize to a cruel boy because_ I _looked at_ him _funny._

_10/5/95 – A new Order is in place. DADA is more and should be more. We must be ready._

 

Draco was able to make the obvious conclusion, which was that this poem which invited the reader to be a kind person and that Hermione Granger noted times where she was able to bring a smile to someone else. It flattered Malfoy that on two occasions he was “the boy” she was speaking of, although he noted that Ron appeared even more frequently. Perhaps he had been wrong to judge that Granger and Weasley were not attracted to one another.

Just then an idea popped into Draco’s head as he began reading over the poem again. He had not a single notable moment that he wanted to remember related to the good deeds that he had done. Surely he was a good person to those he knew well, those in his social class, but honestly he knew there was nothing worth remembering. So he decided in that moment he would do something that would leave an impact, something that he was hopeful would bring a smile to someone’s face. Someone he had come to cherish very much.

Reading the remainder of Hermione’s notebook was not a challenging task. In fact, Draco breezed through Bronte, Lewis, Browning, Rosetti, Frost, and so many more. He read through every single side note too. There were a few poems that were handwritten that were clearly Granger’s originals. Though on in particular caught Draco’s eye…

 

_A simple task, a simple longing, a misfit,_

_A girl and a book, a person and a page;_

_There is no magic. There is no mage._

_A home away from home I am left with,_

_And a culture with a different tone, I was left with –_

_A prejudice and no reader…_

_But, alas, a reader has been found,_

_A reader has come forth; but now an enemy is a friend,_

_Can he be an enemy no more?_

_A book has a bind and a bind I pray,_

_Will make my stranger stay –_

_Stay to read, Stay to learn, Stay because_

_I say – Stay, reader, Stay._

_But will my fondness be okay, for a friend_

_For an enemy, for a friend, please stay –_

_A simple task, a girl and a book._

_But no simple reader I have took…_

Draco was hardly the appropriate person to judge good and bad and strange poetry. He knew of poetry from his own culture, from the wizarding world, all magical children did. However, Muggle literature was very different and very frivolous in comparison. This poem Granger had written was direct and indirect simultaneously. It was expressive and somehow vague. The entire piece was a contraction in and of itself. Yet the point was still made. Once the poem had been read at least five or six more times Draco only felt reaffirmed in his decision to finally, _finally,_ reveal himself to Hermione Granger as her reader.

Pages were separated from being pressed down in order to be read but the page Draco needed was a little more broken apart than the rest. He had kept it open the longest, after all. Draco undid his charms long enough for him to step out and get a quill. Days were counted exactly so that he had the correct date written down.

 

_10/14/95 – Revealed._

 

When Draco chuckled with satisfaction something stirred behind him. The journal was snapped shut immediately so that he could whirl around and identify the noise. That is when he realized that several hours passed by silently. Each of his roommates was passed out in their beds at awkward angles with not nearly enough clothes or blankets to cover their bodies. It was nearly impossible to gauge time from the Slytherin dorms and common room without confirming with a clock, but no doubt it was in the early morning hours. Malfoy moved around in order to check the time on a poorly placed clock, confirmed his suspicions as he did so. However, it _was_ late enough in the morning that he could go straight to the owlery. Perhaps Hermione would have it waiting for her when she woke if he was quick enough.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny has trouble keeping a secret, and keeping her nose out of things. Draco waits nervously. Hermione is anxious and miserable.  
> Teenagers being teenagers, really.

Hermione had been in the Room of Requirement with Ginny for nearly two hours. She had been grouchy, especially after the Quidditch match. Even though there were scheduled times for the Order to practice Hermione suggested that she and Ginny go practice, so that the feisty Gryffindor could get some of her anger out. Ginny was ruthless to the point where she was actually shouting her spells. It concerned Hermione, so she decided to actually say something about it.

“I think maybe you should make yourself talk about it, whatever it is.” Hermione concluded aloud. This only irritated Ginny further. She pivoted after casting one other spell which sent a flaming dummy across the room just to glare at her devilishly. Hermione’s effortless diffusion of the situation was enough to thicken the tension in the room to an unbearable peak.

“I really cannot, ‘Mione. He asked me not to.” Her red hair flew around her face as she started leaving the Room of Requirement. Hermione was left with those finals words. They could be about anyone and about anything. It could be something regarding Ron or Harry, it could be boy troubles (which was unlikely, Ginny was a strong gal). Or it could be about Hermione's reader.

“Oh my Merlin…” She whispered. That had to have been what was bothering Ginny. She frowned excessively as she toddled over to her bag. She knew exactly where she’d stored “Lucky Jim” inside and pulled it out without a second thought. Her Slytherin fifth year reader told her that there were two characters that he likened the pair of them to, and with this new development she felt that there was absolutely no better time to read the book than at that exact moment. She found her way to a tattered settee and cracked open the first page.

* * *

Ginny was sitting in the Great Hall chatting away with a boy from Ravenclaw, Connor Williams. He was asking about some assignments in Charms that he didn’t fully understand. Ginny had helped him in the past and found him to have a great sense of humor. Unfortunately, she recalled, he had gotten the hang of things after a couple of study sessions. She was taken aback when he joined her at the Gryffindor table to speak with her.

“Well it’s on page two-twenty, I think. It is such an obscure piece of information. But I believe it is a one sentence explanation after the bit about annunciation.” Nobody had to tell Ginny that she was a great spell caster or duelist which was why she often used the second-nature ability to build up her allure. Some boys might have been intimidated by her strong-will but others, she actually hoped Connor specifically, were attracted to it. She batted her eyes.

“I think it’d be easier if you just sat down with me outside of class. Do you think you could meet me in the library after lunch on Tuesday?” Connor reached his hand out, palm turned upwards, in a questioning fashion. Ginny had to hide her excitement by glancing away, which ensured he didn’t see that she liked him just yet. She would decide when that happened. However, when she glanced away she saw none other than Draco Malfoy sitting with Blaise Zabini. They had placed themselves away from the usual breakfast crowd while also being a safe distance away from the door. Her distraction was cemented when a large package fell from the air right in front of her, where Hermione should have been sitting if she’d come back from the Room of Requirement the night before.

For a  split second Malfoy and Zabini seemed to be staring at her while she sneered at them. Since the package had Hermione’s name on it Ginny merely took it and stuffed it into her own bag. It would make it to the intended recipient one way or another so nobody should really care. Plus, Draco knew that Ginny knew about him being the reader.

“I am sorry, Conner, that sounds good. I would love to hash out the details here but this is a package that Hermione has been waiting for so I want to get it to her straight away. Please forgive my bad manners.” When she stood up she unintentionally curtsied, a habit she’d developed when she use to have pretend tea parties with her mother. She wasn’t very girly but this was something that resonated through every boyish feature she sported. It never went away and never ceased to make a boy blush. Ginny had not missed the pink in Connor’s cheeks as she rushed away.

* * *

Hermione had been pacing the Room of Requirement for at least an hour. Perhaps it had been two hours, maybe even more than that. She would have no idea since her eyes darted everywhere, from dummies to mirrors to shelves back to dummies. She’d finished “Lucky Jim” in a few short hours but did fall asleep towards the end for a while. However, with her clear and rested mind, she read the ending of the novel. Her reader had made a comment about two characters that resembled them in his mind. Two characters which start the story in two different leagues but somehow through a turn of events end being a couple. This was obviously symbolic in the sense that her reader was romantically interested in her enough to think that they could possibly try dating. She questioned her interpretation but knew there could be no other conclusion to be found.

And that scared Hermione half to death, especially now that she had the Order on her plate. Her classes, the Order, and a boyfriend from the enemy team; that was the recipe for absolute disaster! There was no way that something like that would ever work, not if her boyfriend might aslo be the son of an enemy. Yet Hermione felt her hormones arguing with her. Nothing had made her feel so alive. Nothing made her feel more confident. Someone who actually liked her for who she was: a dorky book lover obsessed with poetry. Or at least, that was assuming that giving her reader her personal journal didn’t push him away.

Nothing about any of this was rational and it only added to all the stress on Hermione's shoulders.

Just as she settled back on the settee next her belongings a door was heard creaking open. Immediately on the alert, Hermione armed herself and had a disarming charm sitting on the tip of her tongue. Fortunately, she didn’t have to attack anyone because it was Ginny who had returned.

“I am sorry about yesterday.” This had been Hermione’s first thought and hoped that it would spark a conversation of apologies. Instead of getting the usual acceptance there was complete and utter silence, other than Ginny’s left hand poking around her backpack. As confused as ever Hermione merely waited for whatever was about to happen.

A package was being shoved into her chest that could only be from one person. Hermione opened her mouth to say ‘thank you’ and, or, ask who the reader was since Ginny had to know who it was. Otherwise she would not have been so hard on Hermione. This was not how friends acted when they knew good news, which meant that it had to be bad news. If it really was bad news then it would become difficult to continue on with her reader, if it was something that she would eventually be displeased to figure out.

She wanted to say more to her best friend but instead she remained as stoic as possible considering the angst-filled mess she’d become over the last two or three weeks. Too many feelings were finding their way into her heart; it was very disabling to a goody-two-shoes type like her. All the time she’d been obsessed with grades and following the rules by the book, no variation; but then she became friends with a boy who would become one of the most well-known wizards in all of history. And each year those morals and expectations were challenged, especially so far in her fifth year.

All of that in mind she peeled paper back. There was not a letter anywhere in the notebook. This caused her to believe that there was something more subtle, perhaps an entry of some sort. With wide eyes she flipped to the very last page, the last one where she’d written her poem about him. Much to her dismay there had been nothing to be found. Her heart sank in crippling disappointment. Had she done something wrong? Was the journal too forward? A rebellious tear slid down her cheek as she abandoned the Room of Requirement to sleep away the day – since she deserved a break anyway.

* * *

Ginny had been able to keep a good face on through the last two days while Hermione spent every free moment staring her hands and rereading her fan letters. Draco had not included a letter with his most recent return and it had been tearing Hermione apart. It didn’t even seem to her that her best friend was broken up about the romantic attraction being dead in the water. She was simply hurt because there was no ending. Hermione needed to know everything and since she didn’t know who the reader was she couldn’t ask what she had done wrong. Ginny suggested the night before that she leave a letter in a blank book where she’d been leaving things before.

Her response was a pathetic grunt while shaking her head. The Weasley daughter was far more patient that her older brothers so she was giving Draco the opportunity to correct things and to offer Hermione an ending. That did not mean, however, that she had not stopped him in the hallway earlier that afternoon to discuss the matter.

“She is miserable. She thinks she made it too personal.” Ginny had whispered from the shadows of a column as she dug around her bag. Thankfully Draco had spotted her and knew that the statement was intended for him. He stopped in place and bent down to ‘tie’ his laces.

“I see it every day, Weasley. But I have a plan. I wrote a date in the book. I am going to talk to her before then anyway. Nudge her in the right direction. Give me a week more. I just need a few more days.” Draco then stood up and walked away very naturally. As for Ginny, she pulled out a letter from her mother. She pretended to look for something in the letter which she needed information on. After she nodded to herself she went to meet Connor in the library.

* * *

 

So Draco looked down at a piece of parchment he kept in his pocket no matter what he was doing, what he was wearing, or where he was going. It was always there. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Reveal. Sunday through Wednesday were crossed out which meant in just two days he would be revealing himself to Hermione Granger who was almost as removed as he had been before he opened up to Blaise over Sunday morning breakfast. Since he was going to reveal himself to Hermione in hopes of something more coming out the bond through their books. All that in mind he knew he was going to need someone on his side, and Blaise had already offered a helping hand as a confidante. Zabini would support a relationship, if it ever got to that point. Draco grinned at the possibility.

Granger had not come to the classroom yet but that didn’t surprise Draco the slightest. He arrived just after Professor Binns opened the doors which meant that he got there before breakfast was even being served. His plan was to wait for Granger to come in and then try to engage her once more before Saturday rolled around.

When he caught sight of her bushy brunette hair in his peripheral vision he quickly stuffed the parchment back in his pocket. She shuffled to her seat in the saddest manner, the aching in her heart radiated from the scuffing noise her shoes made on the floor as she moved around the classroom. No sooner was she seated was Draco making it his job to alleviate some of her sorrow.

“I’ve been thinking about your inquiry the other day.” Draco announced, placing his bottom against the table at angle from her place at the desk. Hermione twitched a little at the topic but remained in her seat with unchanged features.

“And I suppose you’ve concluded that I am not looking hard enough for the answer! Well, thank you, Draco Malfoy! Your help has been thoroughly and unnecessarily pointless!” Hermione had nearly shouted at him as she arranged her belongings on the table, her journal front and center. His hand reached out to touch the journal and open it to the page that she needed to see to calm her nerves but as soon as he got close Hermione swatted him away.

Having felt a bit annoyed with Granger’s angry kitten attitude, Draco leaned down so deep that the only thing that either one of them could possibly see clearly was one another. Sleepless nights were apparent not only in her darkened eyes but in her paling skin. She looked as miserable as he had last week when he was trying to read each book in just a single day. If it wasn’t too soon, Draco would have simply said that she didn’t need to look any further than right in front of her. He had a day scheduled, though, where he would tell her. Revealing himself as the reader had be done somewhere privately - you know, in case she wasn't receptive.

“If you won’t let me open it to the right page, then hear me out. Can you manage at least that?” Draco didn’t mean to speak so lowly. He liked the way his voice sounded, though. For a moment he wondered how it might have affected Hermione. She looked nervous and confused as they maintained unwavering eye contact. Malfoy hoped that it was a good thing.

“Why didn’t he write?” Hermione pleaded. Draco frowned at his decision not to write a letter now. He considered it when he was at the owlery. He should have just done it, if only to give her more direction. But no, Draco had been too selfish and thought by not including a letter he would get to talk to Hermione one more time before everything changed between. That had been his plan and he expected it to be less disastrous.

“It was a mistake. But let me fix it. Can you let someone help you this once instead of trying to help everyone else around you? Oi, miss know-it-all?” Draco was apologetic when he spoke. It surely revealed too much but Hermione did not seem to notice. It took several minutes but eventually the Gryffindor relaxed her expression and sighed. Draco could smell chocolate frog and fizzy pop on her breath.

"I suppose." She replied lazily, even though her tired eyes betrayed her. Granger was not as disinterested as she sounded. There was still a glint of intrigue in her irises.

“Thank you, but I also need a promise from you.” Draco stated plainly for her. The way her brows crinkled in the center of her forehead brought a smile to his face. She was trying to be upset with him for fooling around, but he simply could not have ignored how sweet she looked.

“If I must...” She mumbled with a thick layer of frustration in each syllable. Draco was instigating the situation now which had not been the idea behind this encounter. That, however, did not make it less enjoyable.

“Go eat a proper breakfast. Sweets will not work with your schedule.” A grin planted itself on his face the moment when Hermione glared at him. She must have been surprised to see Draco concerned about her well-being. Of course, she failed to connect the dots that only her Slytherin reader would be worried for her health. She really must have been exhausted. “As for your reader, there’s a date in there but no place or time. It was probably implied that the meeting is in the library. Sit at your usual table overlooking the shelves where you put the books. Be there around sunset”

Hermione immediately stood upright and left her belongings at the table as she excused herself to the Great Hall. Draco watched her go with a smirk on his face. He had not referred to the reader in the third person. Everything he’d just said was a hint and maybe it would dawn on Hermione in time for their meeting on Saturday. Either way he took his seat once more, stroking the parchment in his pocket, Only two more days. She only had two more days. They only had two more days.

* * *

 

Harry and Ron were sitting with her at The Three Broomsticks. Hermione had gotten into an argument with Ginny last night about meeting her reader on today. Ginny said that it was silly of her let herself become so invested in a stranger, which really hurt when less than a week prior she had actually encouraged it. Somehow she must have found out who her reader was and refused to interfere. She did mention that he asked her not to say. Ginny was going to let Hermione figure out the mess on her own and that infuriated her.

“If you still like her then maybe you should try getting her something for Christmas. Maybe a plain necklace or a bracelet?” Hermione made a suggestion for Harry’s romance life. Well, it hadn’t been so much a romance life as it was a romantic obsession with someone who was basically unattainable. Cho’s boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, died last year and she was not exactly over it. Hermione wasn’t a social relations expert by any stretch of the imagination but even she could see that detail. It was written all over her face.

“Why should Harry take your advice?” Ron grumbled without a mouthful of food. Hermione had charmed her reader’s letters and journal so that neither Harry nor Ron could see what she was actually looking at, she claimed it was just some notes from her classes. They were so used to it that they bought the excuse without a second thought.

Hermione began reviewing the information she had again, racking her brain more vigorously than ever. The meeting was only a couple of hours away. So...

Her reader had a not-girlfriend when this process started but apparently resolved the issue. That could have been anyone.

“Because I am a girl and I know what girls like. In case you've forgotten - again.” Hermione responded with as little offense as possible. Ron always suggested that she wasn’t capable of romantic advice or girly things of any sort. He thought of Hermione as less than human, she figured, and it always showed when he spoke to her.

Her reader was a fifth year Slytherin boy. That narrowed the pool down quite a bit but not much. Every fifth year Slytherin boy dated girls rapidly and fluidly; many of their relationships blended together as they moved to and fro between one another. It had to be a pureblood thing, a prejudice pureblood practice, it absolutely had to be.

“If I were you, Harry, I would just take her to Madame Puddifoot’s for tea.” Hermione shook her head and sighed. Of course Ronald Weasley would want to go on a date that would have food and drinks. The ginger boy never stopped thinking about eating once throughout his day. Hermione didn’t necessarily disagree with the suggestion, but Harry could not just go and ask her on a date! That would have been too much too soon.

“That sounds like a date. Cho does not want to date yet.” She made it sound so as-a-matter-of-factly that Harry agreed under his breath instantly. The Ravenclaw’s feelings were unpredictable most of the time. Ron scoffed very obviously no that he was on his own in the conversation.

Draco was tricky. He must have given her some more information about her reader. He was always in the library when she was seeking out this Slytherin boy of hers. Well, she knew that the reader wasn’t hers, but she almost felt like he was sometimes. It was hard to not refer to him as hers. Hermione noted it was unhealthy and moved on.

There was the matter with Ginny. Her sudden shift in attitude definitely was a clue. Hermione tried to recall when Ginny started being grumpy and if there had been a reason. She did have a run in with Draco in the hallway last weekend. He knocked her over on the staircase. That didn't really seem relevant until that moment. Draco might have been with the reader. Ginny might have noticed the package being addressed to her. Plus, she got even worse after the Quidditch game. There a few fifth years on the Slytherin team. That would narrow the pool of boys down significantly. But that alone wouldn't give Hermione much direction, especially if she didn't know who all the alternates were.

So she went back to an almost-reliable source. Draco kept telling her to look, that she wasn’t really looking for the answer. What wasn’t she seeing? The only thing she really ever noticed about anyone in the Slytherin house as being out of the ordinary was when Draco had been so exhausted and distant from his usual group of friends that he very rarely was see  outside if class. and that’s if he even attended. As she thought about it, Pansy wasn’t trailing him anymore either. In fact she stuck rather close to Blaise most days. Draco had also been willing speaking to her the last few weeks, as if he knew exactly what was going on. As if he was so close to the reader that he knew exactly when books were returned and what had been said in the letters…

“What would Hermione know about any of this anyway? Does she have a boyfriend? No! Does she even like anyone?”

Then the conversation played in her head from Thursday. She was set to meet her reader in the library when she returned back to the school from their trip to Hogsmeade. Draco had been the one to tell her that. And as she thought on it she remembered how she’d been told. It wasn’t that the reader meant to say that she should go to the library. It hadn’t been that the reader picked sunset as the time to meet up. No, it hadn’t been someone conveying a message, had it? It was just Draco Malfoy telling Hermione what to do. Almost as if…

“Hermione? Do you like someone?” It was Harry’s curious voice speaking this time, not Ron’s condemning one. Her pause had captured their attention. A breath hitched in her chest as she finally reached a conclusion about her reader. Her body jerked forward while her left hand pushed through her bangs and swept them aside.

“It’s Draco Malfoy.” She let out a croaky sort of whisper. “Merlin’s beard! He is the reader.”

Harry and Ron’s jaws were hanging off of their face. They must have heard some of what she’d said but they were clueless as to what relevance any of it had to the current discussion. Her heart was racing now as pieces began falling together in her mind. Ginny was right to be so upset about her reader all of the sudden. Hermione grabbed her stuff and shoved it away as she started running out of The Three Broomsticks.

Hermione needed to get to the library more now than she ever had before.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione must now confront one another.

Hermione walked into the library and went directly to the Restricted Section. Upon arrival she placed herself in her well-worn seat and it had been surreal. She couldn’t believe that within a few minutes Draco would saunter into her field of vision. And he would think that he was _so_ smooth. It infuriated her that he might really believe he’d been very suave to have thought of this dramatic reveal, so she jumped on her feet and started pacing with her arms crossed.

* * *

 

Draco had been leaning against the wall in the shadows. Hermione hadn’t noticed him on her mission to get into the library. He had a gut wrenching feeling that she had figured out that he was her reader. It would have been just in the nick of time, too, since she hadn’t approached him prior to that point. Luckily all of his nerves had built up over the entire week so he could not have been more frightened in those moments than he was on Sunday when he couldn’t take back the word “Revealed” written her journal. It had to have been nearly fifteen minutes before he found the strength to enter the library, breathless and weak kneed.

* * *

 

When Hermione heard footsteps behind her she stiffened out of mere habit. Normally she’d have spun around to meet her maker, her _figurative_ maker, but she could hardly move. This was the moment where she would have to look at Draco and openly discuss everything that had happened. And that meant they’d have to talk about their feelings and what they should do after this meeting. This idea had put Hermione in such a crippled state that she stopped breathing when the air stirred next to her.

* * *

 

After he approached Granger he noted that her chest stop moving and her knuckles whitened against her triceps. She did not move to look at him as he made his not-so-grand entrance. Once he moved around and looked at her face he found confirmation that she knew. Hermione _knew_ that _he_ was her reader. He reminded himself that this wasn’t the end of the world and was in fact the plan he’d hatched on his own accord. All this would do was dictate how things would, at the very least, begin.

He poked his hand out to her with innocent eyes, or at least what Draco hoped were innocent eyes. Much to his surprise the Gryffindor grabbed his hand and followed him to the table which he usually sat at, the one further away than any other. Then he prompted the conversation the only way he could now that he understood what Hermione knew.

“When you did you put it together?” Draco felt himself relax. Considering only minutes ago he was still somewhat panicked mentally, he could hardly believe his ease and comfort when he started talking to her. However, he had been the anonymous one. Draco had twice the information that Granger did throughout everything. As for her, she was facing a stranger while he knew the entire time what he was getting into from the beginning. Hermione did not have that advantage. That had rendered Draco speechless at times during the week because it very well could have ended up being the reason Hermione turned him away.

* * *

 

Much to her surprise she found Draco’s voice to be very suave and calming, exactly what she’d condemned him for before he showed up. Draco Malfoy wasn’t supposed to be _suave_ to her of all people. Besides that, she still had not looked at him directly and was not sure that she was ready, exactly. So she should not have described him in a positive light. The entire ride back from Hogsmeade allowed her to settle on the fact that he was her reader. She had even been able to square away with the fact that she had romantic feelings for her reader - who had ended up being Draco Malfoy, a boy she would not have missed if he had died a month ago. Then, with a frown on her lips, she remembered that Draco had asked her a question.

“About an hour and a half ago? I put it together over dinner at The Three Broomsticks.” Hermione felt her lips go numb as the reality settled further. She had responded in a civilized conversation with Draco that was not motivated by a desire to get information. Her eyes remained downcast as she shook her head anxiously.

* * *

 

Draco felt himself reach out to Hermione and push her chin upward. His touch must have persuaded her to finally look into his eyes. Besides, it would not have been the first time they’d looked at one another. It wouldn’t have even been the first time they’d made eye contact with that level of intensity behind them. The only difference then was that they did it with exactly the same information.

“What was your first thought?” He was scared to ask this question without a doubt, and it sounded more like a whimper than anything at the time. The fact that any of the words were audible would always shock Draco.

* * *

 

She would never be able to explain what it was about knowing Draco was her reader that made her succumb to the Slytherin boy. It certainly wasn’t charm. Yet when he made her look at him she did not resist. And even more, she had not been inhibited to speak at all. She told Draco exactly what he’d asked for.

“Honestly, my _first_ thought was that I was an idiot for not realizing immediately. Once that thought crossed my mind a few hundred times and I could feel something other than stupid – well – I guess I thought that it couldn’t really have been anyone else, could it have?” Hermione had plenty of time to think about Draco being her reader. Someone who was playing the role of “anonymous” was hardly ever all that “anonymous.” The dead giveaway _should_ have been that Draco was interacting with her more frequently, but since he never seemed out of character she hadn’t questioned it. He always sounded as if he thought himself superior, condescending tone and all. But the frequency of the run-ins and encounters… “There was nobody else who ever invested their time in me from the Slytherin House. Positively or negatively, it was always you making sure I was different, that I felt different. If my reader would have been anyone else I can’t believe that they would have been nearly as successful at the whole mess as you have been.”

* * *

 

Draco blushed. He didn’t need to see Hermione’s lips curl upward to know that his cheeks were the shade of a freshly bloomed rose. And that would have been without considering his nearly white pigment and sickly blonde hair. He sucked in his bottom lip and bit down, trying not to laugh at himself, or at the truth in her words. There really wasn’t another person at Hogwarts, especially in the Slytherin House, whom paid more attention to Hermione Granger than him. It made him wonder if all those years he actually liked her but didn’t know how to emotionally handle it. Growing up he had known how his parents felt about Muggle-borns and half-bloods so how else would an eleven-year-old act when they were instantly infatuated with the type of person his parents wanted dead?

“I will take that as a compliment, I suppose. You do want me to think that was a nice statement, right?” Composure was probably lost now that she’d flattered him. Or at least he felt flattered. On top of that he had found that he suddenly confused about himself and his intentions. It was clear to Draco, however, that he had feelings for Granger before he had seen her waiting in the library. He simply had not expected to witnessing it would bring forward the possibility that maybe he liked her for even longer than he had believed.

* * *

 

Hermione had to fight back a shudder when Draco’s cheeks flared. She dared to admit a level of irresistibility in the way he bit his lip, even the way he tucked in his chin when his self-confidence waivered. She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward, knowing that her active participation would capture the young man’s attention.

“If you wanted it to be, then it was. If not, then please feel free to feel as insulted as I ever have when you’ve spoken to me.” She immediately felt horrorstricken by how hateful the comment must have sounded. Her hands flew even further outward unconsciously as she silently tried to apologize for her statement.

* * *

 

Draco laughed when the brunette panicked after she made a very honest statement. It had been sort of nice to see her snarky, he liked it even. Hermione was too intelligent to _not_ be a bit of a sarcastic git at times. He had also decided that as long as he was enjoying her company that he should wrap his hands over hers. As soon as he did the air in the library shifted. Hermione didn’t pull away. Draco hadn’t known what to expect so he had just hoped that she’d accept the act of affection. When his laugh died away and he was left a lingering smirk over his lips.

“I could care less about if that was actually a compliment or not. I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime, anyway. But…”

* * *

 

“ _But…_ that is hardly the reason we are here. We are here about something more important. About the letters, about the fondness, the stuff that brought us to this exact day, time, and place…” Hermione had never been the breathy, trailing off sort of person. Somehow she _sort of_ transformed into that person after the letters started. Nothing had been quite as concrete or logical after those began. Quickly she glanced at their hands, intertwined so compatibly.

Draco watched Hermione look helplessly at their fingers laced around one another. It felt natural and that had to be the reason she was so unnerved by it. In some ways it was hard for him to swallow it completely as well. That was not to suggest that he didn’t like it. In fact, he craved more of it. This oasis with Granger was more than he had hoped for in the last week.

“I imagine you’ve got more questions than I do. Want to do a ‘q and a’ thing?” Draco suggested the only thing that really came to mind at the time. There would be little else they could do to keep the conversational pace steady and natural. Hermione did not react at first so he questioned himself immediately, “That sounds childish, doesn’t it?”

* * *

Hermione wiggled around a bit, but had not moved her hands the slightest. In fact, she had actually tightened her grip on Draco.

“I actually think it is brilliant. Do you need a moment?” Hermione thought it would be funny to use her best mock-Rita Skeeter tone of voice when she responded. Draco must have picked up on it right away because he chuckled handsomely at her. She wasn’t sure at the time why she chose ‘handsomely’ as the way to best describe his laughter but it seemed to have been the best fit. There was no other word that had come to mind when she questioned it, so she left it that way in her mind. A handsome laugh - just the sort that matched his face.

* * *

 

“No, no, miss, I think I’m ready.” Draco enjoyed the playful moment between them. He couldn’t have dreamt up such an easygoing encounter if he had been a madman, let alone in his right mind. Even though he knew he shouldn’t have expected it to last forever, Draco certainly allowed himself to believe it invulnerable.

* * *

 

“Why did you actually respond?” She felt that if she asked something simple Draco would accidentally answer all of the unspoken questions as well. It had been a terrible plan of action but at least it had been a plan.

* * *

 

Because he was intrigued? Because he was as thirsty for the information just as she was? Because he was miserable in his own life and she presented an alternative so outlandish that it seemed the only option to forget? There were a number of reasons that contributed to his decision. Trying to pick a reason to present had been nearly impossible. Yet, he managed to open his mouth and explain himself somehow.

“When you become so broken and sad you will do anything to change yourself. I don’t like the way things are when I’m _not_ at Hogwarts and you didn’t seem to like things all that well while you _were_ at Hogwarts. As I pieced that together something about it lingered with me. It captured my attention very ruthlessly. So I read that letter, I read that book, and then I wrote my letter – and I never once really questioned whether it was the _right_ thing because I knew how wrong it should have been. But I wanted to change too badly to not respond.” Draco may not have been satisfied for his response if weren’t for Hermione’s glistening eyes. He knew that his words truly resonated with her and he had been instantly glad to have said them. It was just the affirmation that he needed to prove that he hadn’t been wrong to try.

* * *

 

Hermione could not have worded it better, she didn’t believe, if she had been in Malfoy’s shoes. She felt that she had the slightest understanding as to what must have been happening at Draco’s home. Since he admitted that he was displeased with it, then she fully expected she would have done the same. Hogwarts must be a refuge for him – a proper home to get away from home, as it were. Hermione, on the other hand, always felt somewhat out of place in the school. She always loved going to the school but she never felt quite right. Going on her fifth year as an outcast, of sorts, she had begun feeling as though she were in the wrong place. Or in the wrong world; as if a crisis had been sewn into her background warning her she didn’t belong.

“Right enough, then. What made you start using ‘fondly yours?’ Not necessarily the reasoning behind the words or the impact you wanted them to have. What did you _feel_ that made you want the impact those words would give. You do realize the way those words _read_ to a desperate girl, right?” She didn’t realize until it was entirely too late that she’d sputtered everything out in one breath. Hermione had considered apologizing but Draco grinned too quickly. His eyes shone too brightly. She, honestly, had gotten too distracted. Before he even spoke she’d gathered that he knew all too well what that word did and that he’d actually wanted her to buy into it.

* * *

 

Draco pondered her question, not the in the same Hermione might have expected. His first thought was the fact that she had actually been the one who used the word _fond_ in their letters. He had him up all night; his mind had been distracted for days after that point. Blaise had brought up that he could see right through Draco before Draco himself was even fully aware of how he much her attraction had affected him. It hadn’t been until Hermione announced to him that she was _fond_ of her reader aloud that Draco caught on to his own attraction to her. Was this why had had made such a big deal of using “fondly _yours_ ” in the letters?

“You said it first.” Draco made himself say something while he still tried to piece words together.

“We already know why _I_ used it but the question was about why _you_ used it.”  Hermione countered. Thankful that she had not gotten to upset about his obvious delay Draco lifted his chin a little, flicked his eyes to ceiling, and then settled his gaze back on hers.

He cleared his throat in an unintentionally dramatic fashion, “I lost sleep over that, actually. I still can’t say when I started liking you so much because sitting here literally has me questioning _everything_ that has ever happened between us. However, I think what honestly made me start acknowledging it was when we were in the library, standing just over there.” Draco gestured to the place where he caught Granger ‘pranking’ him while he studied. That had been when she first asked him about her reader. The same time she had said out loud that she was fond of her reader.

“I liked the way it sounded and since you didn’t know I was your reader I knew I would never hear it from your lips again. So I thought I could get you to keep writing it, at least as long I would respond I thought you’d keep signing it that way. Then I could still hope. I could pretend. Or perhaps I was doing both.” He sighed at the end of his pathetic description. Hermione had been watching him closely. He assumed she was trying to identify if the conversation was pure but she knew it was, she just doubted him. There was no reason to blame her for it either, Draco concluded. He would have been just as worried as she was if he were in her position.

* * *

 

Hermione was somewhat surprised, hadn’t she been? She may not have been friends with Draco but she watched him. She watched everyone, and knew about everyone as a result of it. So she knew that Draco wasn’t exactly a heartthrob in the Slytherin House. However, girls liked him. A few of them did fawn over his every word. Malfoy knew what it was like to have some be attracted to him, what it was like to have someone _want_ him. So she had had difficulty believing that it really was that simple for him.

“That’s all, then? Just thought it sounded good coming from me knowing that I meant it about you…” Hermione frowned immediately which prevented her from speaking any further. That just seemed too outlandish to her, but then again the whole situation was unfathomable to her. Holding hands with Draco Malfoy, writing letters to him, and being _attracted_ to him.

“Yes.” He replied plainly, voice softer than wind on your cheek. She teetered back and pulled her hands from his. Subconsciously she crossed her arms over her chest and started thinking about the matter with which was faced.

Draco had clearly and honestly invested himself in the role as her reader. He could not have continued the joke this far without wavering somehow, she was positive. This also meant that he had to have felt a genuine connection with her to have gone so far with the engagement. The only problem she faced now what which of the potential outcomes would be _the_ outcome.

“Ginny made a comment about me being your girlfriend. You know, before she knew that she was saying that I was _your_ girlfriend.” Hermione made her remark offhandedly. Unsurprisingly this is what had prompted Draco to speak again.

* * *

 

“She didn’t help you figure it out, did she? We had an agreement. It was an _implied_ agreement, but an agreement nonetheless.” Draco hadn’t really considered that Hermione would have gotten information from her best friend. Hermione had never been the type to ask for help but after having heard her say something about Weasley he reeled on the possibility.

“No, she didn’t help at all. At least, she hadn’t helped intentionally. Her attitude shift did indicate that she knew something, though” Her reply was almost leisurely. Draco appreciated that she did not speak down to him as though he should have noticed the tension. He had been glad at that moment to have had entangled himself with a level-headed girl who handled herself with poise. If she were a pureblooded witch Draco knew that she was exactly the kind of woman his parents would have wanted him to marry.

None of that mattered to him, of course, otherwise he had never continued with the books. He would have never revealed himself. He would have never gotten the pleasure to sit with Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, in the dimming sunlight in his favorite part of the school. It had been clear quite some time ago that Draco had stopped caring what his parents might have thought of him if they ever found out.

Plus, Draco knew he wouldn’t have traded anything if he meant he’d lose this memory.

* * *

 

Hermione wondered about each of the possible ends to the game she’d been playing for three weeks. Now that she had more information to factor in she had to reassess everything. Firstly, she knew that it would always be an option for her to reject her reader once she knew whom it was. By turning Draco’s affections away they could pretend the books and the letters never happened. They could return to their lives and forget everything. Then there was the possibility that they could at least carry on as they were, minus the anonymity of course. That wouldn’t be so bad, Hermione was sure the two of them could maintain a healthy friendship in that fashion.

Lastly, she knew that it was also possible for them to move forward trying to be more. They could try having a relationship – dating – as she had feared and hoped up until that exact moment. Although, the desire for a romance had been most prominent when she hadn’t considered the very real possibility that her reader belonged to _the_ Voldemort loyalist family.

“That’s not a good sign. You’re focused which means you’re thinking. And since you’re Hermione Granger it means that you’re _over_ thinking. That – _that_ – will get us nowhere.” She heard Draco whisper almost silently. He probably had thought she wouldn’t hear him but she had. Or maybe he had said it intentionally in an attempt to break her train of thought. Hermione knew that either way he had merely made an observation, albeit a scarily accurate observation at the time. It didn’t change how taken back she’d been by his statement. Once Hermione snapped back to the present she laid herself half way across the table so she could see every facial movement on Draco’s face when she asked her next question.

“What did you think you would accomplish here today, Draco?”

* * *

 

Draco knew exactly what he _wanted_ to accomplish. However, that wasn’t what Hermione had asked him about. She asked what he thought he _would_ accomplish. When he was at his most realistic he could only say he thought he’d accomplish one thing, he expected nothing more.

“I’d make you feel something.” Draco stated very simply. His eyes had been closed when the words fell from his lips but his heart couldn’t have been more open. There was no way feasibly for him to have been more sincere and honest with her, and if it hadn’t been received positively…

“Was that intentionally vague?” The tone of her voice forced Draco to reconnect with her. When his lids lifted he saw that she pushed as far back into her seat as possible with her arms so tight over her chest that the discomfort was apartment in her posture. Without a second thought he nodded at her just once, explaining himself immediately after as she would have expected.

“Yes. It covers both what I legitimately expected and also what I wanted to happen. There’s no better answer than the one that tells both stories.” She sucked in a very sharp breath when he mimicked her, leaning away from the table and tensing up. Draco cleared his throat and wriggled about into a more comfortable position where the top of the chair would not have dug into his bag so harshly.

* * *

 

“Allow me to rephrase my question, Malfoy. Vagueness breeds vagueness. Wouldn’t you agree?” Hermione had shifted to a more formal approach in the conversation. It had been completely out of habit. Whenever she became too emotionally involved with something she would forcefully block herself up. She would also block everyone around her out. Hermione had always known this and could identify when it was actually happening. But it didn’t stop her from continuing on at the time anyway.

“Yes.” He whispered, mirroring her actions as if he held it against her for being so concerned. Hermione sized him up, judging whether or not she had wasted her time and given him a chance he’d never deserved. After shaking her head and stretching her arms out again, the Gryffindor revived whatever bravery she had left to ask the question that would determine how things ended for the pair of them.

“What did you _hope_ to accomplish here today?” Asking this question scared her more than just about anything else she’d ever faced. Hermione had always been weird in the way. Near death experiences were to be expected as far as she’d been concerned, but social interaction of any sort? Those were the moments that frightened her the most. It was a miracle she even had friends. Hermione never believed she’d have a proper boyfriend, since Viktor never really counted in her opinion. This was so close to that that she could not behave the way she wanted to, it was just simply out of her grasp. At least it had felt that way to her.

* * *

 

“I hoped that maybe you’d give me a chance. A clean slate. A fresh start. I thought that maybe I had done enough with my letters and reading the books to prove I was truly very different from my family and their ancestors. Today I wanted to leave this library knowing that I would have a bright future rather than a condemned one.” Draco felt that there was no dancing around the topic any further. If he wanted to get it out he had to have gotten it out there and then. His eyes never left Hermione as she twisted to the side of her seat. She stood up after a few minutes and paced around in a bit of a figure eight.

As he waited for her to say something the tension and fear built up at a staggering pace, even though not an hour ago he’d have believed that he couldn’t get more anxious than he’d already been. He had literally started sweating as she moved around. Hermione never got very far away from their table in the Restricted Section but she never looked up to see what she was doing. There was no place where she felt more comfortable than in the Library, Draco was sure of that. He only wished that there was no other person she felt more at ease with than him as well.

* * *

 

She’d been silent for nearly ten minutes. It was a struggle for her to process what he’d actually told her. It wasn’t that the words didn’t register properly because they had. Each individual word had made perfect sense. It was just that all together she could hardly believe that they’d been said to her in that order. From Draco Malfoy’s mouth of all people, to add to it! Hermione must have sneered at the ground a hundred times before she actually walked over directly to him and idled at his side. The pit of emotions swallowed her whole and left her with only one feasible conclusion.

“Draco Malfoy, you poor, unfortunate soul…” She started shyly. There would be no way for her to know if she’d made the right decision until it would be much too late. Whatever the consequences she’d have to stand by the choice, even if Draco looked up at her with teary eyes; there would be no turning back. She had more than herself to consider and there was no way romance could make her behave selfishly, Hermione had always known that was her creed. “You poor, _beautiful_ , unfortunate soul.”

Draco quivered underneath her fingertips as she placed a hand carelessly on his shoulder. He had an understanding of what was going to be said before Hermione could have possible formed them behind her teeth. Regardless, if she did not say it out loud there would always be the possibility for her to turn back. In these times, on their respective sides, there was no room for error. There was no room for reckless decisions.

“The only way you will have a future is if things remain exactly as they were _before_ our letters.” Hermione had to beg herself to push the words off of her tongue. There would never be a moment in her life more painful that what she’d had to say to her loyal Slytherin reader. She chattered her teeth together nervously before squatting down in front of the boy who tried to run from her.

With his hands swiped up in her own, she coerced him to remain in his place, “You would be hunted if you abandoned your family. Your parents would be tortured and abused if you let them down. Voldemort would become ruthless and everyone we knew would be in twice as much danger as they are now. If you want a future then we _must_ stay where we are…”

* * *

 

There had been no point in hiding his sorrow. Draco could not bring himself to sob as excessively as he would have anywhere else. However, tears spilled from his eyes as though he knew how to do nothing but cry. Hermione reached up to his cheeks and wiped streaks away. He had even noticed her eyes watering. It was clear neither of them were pleased with the direction the conversation had turned, but Draco couldn’t help having been most upset that she was the one responsible for the shift.

“I won’t beg. I won’t beg you to change your mind. I promise.” His words were spoken in more of a squeak than anything else. Draco had been aware of the possibility that this would be the outcome of their confrontation. In many ways he must have known that it was the _only_ outcome but he dared to dream of something better. Having felt more defeated than ever at the reality that consumed him, he leaned down and placed his forehead against Hermione’s since there’d be no other opportunities for him to share in such intimate moments.

“I promise you, Hermione Granger.” This time he had said it to assure himself that would never bother her again. He would do whatever she asked of him because rejection didn’t make him care for her any less; it didn’t deter his attraction to her. All he needed to do was remind himself that he would not interfere with her personal affairs. It would never be his business.

* * *

“You don’t have to forget. You don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen. But I want you to have a chance at surviving the war no matter which side triumphs. I would make you a target. I make _everyone_ around me a target because I’m just…”

She’d sworn that she’d never say the word again, but in that moment she became so enraged about the entire war that she could not have stopped herself from spitting them out as she stood to walk away. Her back had been turned to Malfoy because subconsciously she’d known that it would offend him.

“…a filthy _Mudblood._ ”

She stormed away from the scene determined that those would be her last words to him. Hermione knew that she made the right decision but she did not have to be happy with it. Somehow in her head she had pieced together that Draco was as sincere as they’d come. There was next to no chance that anyone would ever be as interested and devoted to her as he has been with the same amount of independence and complexity. The concept of soul mates came to her mind as she abandoned her reader. Hermione nearly screamed out loud about unfair it was that she had to leave hers behind.

* * *

 

Draco waited for Hermione to get out of sight before he composed himself enough to accept his fate. Once he pushed the hurt far enough back to recall what she’d called herself he sprung from his seat. Movingly quickly came naturally to him so it was not even a full minute past before his hands wrapped around Granger’s arms. He turned her back around to face him as she shook his head at her.

“Don’t you ever say that again, do you understand me?” Draco commanded. He would concede to Hermione’s desire to cease all contact. That would be fine if that was what she truly wanted, or believed she would need to do. One thing he would _not_ do was let her put herself down over something that did not matter. Blood didn’t matter, not to him – not anymore. “Do you understand me?”

Hermione shocked him by putting her arms around him and mumbling an apology into his neck. It was the briefest exchange but it had frozen him in place. He had not even hugged her back. When she pulled away from him she did not turn away immediately, Draco almost asked himself why. Then he had realized why she didn’t move was not the important factor. It had been the perfect opening to do something he’d never have the chance to again.

* * *

Hermione was not sure whether or not hugging Malfoy would be a weak point when she looked back over their story. She talked herself into doing it when she saw his face and heard him condemn her for calling herself a Mudblood. The passion in his demand drew something out of her that was inexplicable. But her vulnerability must have done the same to him because after a few seconds of awkward silence he had pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione had only kissed Viktor before and it was different. She would describe those kisses as having been exciting and whimsical. He was a celebrity, after all. Few girls could say that their first kiss was with a _celebrity_. It would be the kiss other girls could never forgot, the one they relieved in their dreams. Hermione hadn’t been that way and never expected that she would be, especially after kissing Draco Malfoy.

His lips were gentle, his tongue smooth, and his breath chilling. Hermione didn’t have exert any energy to recognize the taste of pumpkin jelly beans in his mouth. As they moved together, cautious yet contradictorily anxious, the world seemed to have blackened out around them. It would have been impossible to guess how long they shared in their embrace but every second that it had lasted had been worth it. _This_ would be the kiss Hermione dreamt about.

“Okay, _now_ I promise.” Draco laughed as he pulled away from her. His movement away had been very effortless. She wanted to frown as there was nothing happy about being told by the boy she was sure she might have loved if she’d been given a chance, but she laughed at him instead. It was strange that they started the evening calm and collected. Then they’d gotten caught up in the seriousness of their affections, and nearly ended the night with dramatic angst. But somehow they’d managed to lighten the mood before leaving one another alone for good.

* * *

“And I won’t forget.” She whispered kindly. Neither of them had moved straight away but at least when they did break apart and go separate ways the mood had been light. It didn’t matter that they would never get to enjoy one another’s company again but there had been something satisfying about the encounter. Draco let her go and never looked back.

Okay, Draco had looked back several times on the way back to the Slytherin common room where Blaise had been waiting up in the dorms. Everyone else who roomed with them had been elsewhere; Draco had ensured it knowing his plans for that night. When he recalled the incident in the library to his new confidante there wasn’t an ounce of bitterness.

“You loved her, Draco, you know that don’t ya?” His friend had proclaimed at the end of it all. Draco dropped himself backwards and felt his head crash into the pillow harshly. He had been denying the depth of his feelings since it had only been three weeks since he first read Hermione’s words on the now well-worn parchment. But everything that existed between him and his forbidden Gryffindor girl were over and there would be little reason to continue lying to himself about it.

“I never stopped, though, did I?” Neither of them had the need to speak further because it was true. Draco had fallen in love with Hermione somewhere throughout the process. It had been so hard and so quick he’d never be able to say when or why but just that he had done it. Those emotions weren’t halted or stinted by Hermione’s choice to remain on opposing sides. Draco believed he would never stop loving her. It was very much a part of him, a part that he would cherish forevermore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though the "Dear Reader" story itself is complete there will be two more chapters. A two-part epilogue that takes place in the future.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione reunite under the absolute worst of circumstances.

Hermione felt Ron’s hand swaying beside her own and it was unnerving to realize that any one of the three of them could die at any moment. They were just captured by the Snatchers and in front of them was a madwoman, Bellatrix Lestrange, waiting for her nephew to come and confirm their identities. Harry was disfigured, and she silently thanks herself as she scans his unmoving face.

As the trio waited on Draco Malfoy to arrive Hermione couldn’t resist conjuring up her fondest memories of the pureblooded, Slytherin charmer. They had exchanged anonymous letters over Muggle Literature in her fifth year. A smile tries to creep up over her lips but she denies it. Even though they had pretended that it had never happened, the pair of them always ended up in the same place studying at the same time, sharing glances across tables and classrooms that were charged with regret and desire. But Hermione let go a long time ago and felt her chin tilt towards Ron.

She had feelings for him now, too, although never quite as strong as the ones towards Malfoy. The young woman always, even now, reminded herself that it was a far more feasible relationship. Besides, things would never be dull with a Weasley in her life. Ron must be feeling the same, longing and fearful, because he reaches for her hand outright just as she started to make the same move. They share a brief moment of silent appreciation for one another before a door can be heard opening in a nearby hallway.

That’s when Hermione begins to panic inside. Of course, she had been worried before and completely aware that the war was riding on their shoulders – _her_ shoulders, since Harry and Ron were very dependent on her wit to find the answers. The sound of familiar shoes is sounding in her ears that is becomes impossible for her to think about anything logically beyond the fact that she is going to see him for the first time since they left Hogwarts at the end of their sixth year. Her priorities were definitely out of order and she couldn’t bring herself to sort them properly.

Draco can be seen stiffening the second he catches sight of Hermione, but she doubts that it has anything to do with her presence as it does with the closeness to Ron. Neither of them really dated anyone but after the letters stopped. Draco removed himself from everyone around him. Hermione regrets not expressing concern for him because when he is close enough to examine she sees the sorrow worn into the bags under his eyes, the blood vessels bursting in his eyes, and the faintest stubble fogging up his cheeks. It is obvious immediately that he is not taking very good care of himself and it enrages Hermione.

“What have you called me away from the study for?” Draco asks dismissively, pretending he doesn’t recognize any reason for him to present. Hermione is thankful for it immediately and relaxes somewhat. Ron lets go of her hand to wipe his palm against his jeans but she declines to lace her fingers when he presses out against her again. It is difficult to focus on anything but Draco’s lips responding to the questions and statements being made.

“Auntie Bella needs a favor from the failure!” Bellatrix shouts immediately. Draco doesn’t flinch which Hermione personally sees as brave and saddening. No person in the world should have to be so used to shrilled insults that they simply accept it as the norm. And she is especially sure that Draco Malfoy doesn’t deserve it either.

Then Hermione remembers why Bellatrix Lestrange is calling her nephew a failure. Harry informed her that at the end of their sixth year he’d been given the task of killing Albus Dumbledore. In the end he simply could not do it, according to Harry’s story. She knew that he never would have done it and she knew looking at him now that he wouldn’t be able to turn his back on them. _On her_ …

“Who do they claim to be?” Draco is approaching them and taking extra care to examine Harry. Hermione draws a breath of the cold, tainted air in Malfoy Manor. She can almost taste the evil seething itself in, out, and around of every twist, turn, and edge of the luxurious home. Once he is done glancing over Harry he moves to Ron, where he sneers and scoffs per the pattern. Draco never liked Ron, and clearly still doesn’t. Hermione is sure that he senses the developing relationship and if he still has strong feelings, then his dislike is likely enhanced with jealousy.

“Vernon Dudley.” Greyback points to Harry, “Barny Weasley,” he shifts his finger towards Ron, “And this beautiful prey….” He approaches Hermione while licking his lips. She is so disgusted that she steps away from him when he gets too close for comfort, glaring at him as he continues, “…she claims to be called Penelope Clearwater.”

Draco finally steps in front of Hermione and shares a very long and uncomfortable gaze. Each of them sees that these lies will not last, especially if someone can identify Hermione from the posters and the Daily Prophet. She is sure it is only a matter of time. Then before anyone notices their still very present attraction to each other, Hermione nervously looks away from both Draco and Greyback.

“He…” The young man gets her hint and starts walking away, pointing his own finger at Ron, “…is obviously telling the truth. He _looks_ like a Weasley. Obviously he couldn’t lie his way out of that one.”

“He tried.” Greyback growls simply. Hermione wants to attack him even though she isn’t very violent by nature. There is just this hatred that brews inside of her when she sees Greyback’s eyes and the way he does not see people. He sees food. She gains respect each passing second for Remus Lupin who obviously handles his _condition_ with control and dignity.

“As for the other two, I cannot say for sure. It is very possible they are telling the truth. Vernon Dudley and Penelope Clearwater were several years ahead of me when I arrived at Hogwarts so I wouldn’t be able to identify either of them after all this time.” Draco defends his inability to match names to faces with clear affirmation. Bellatrix casts a hex at him which Draco’s mother dispels immediately from the background. The sisters share angry glances but eventually back off of one another, and it makes Hermione somewhat grateful to have been an only child.

“Then I will get the answers myself!” Bellatrix exclaims.

That’s when the undesired and expected happens, very much to Hermione’s dismay. One of the Snatchers smacks his hands together several times, although he does it slowly as if to commend something brilliant. Hermione knows before he cackles and explains himself that he has recognized her from the media. She frowns and casts her eyes downward – this was going to happen at some point during the stay.

“This one ‘ere is the Mudblood! That Mudblood witch that travels with Harry Potter! This ‘as to be ‘em.” He is very proud of himself. As soon as Draco widens his eyes and takes a step forward his family tries escorting him in the opposite direction. They do end up more dragging him than anything. Hermione barely hears Belltrix’s order to remove Harry and Ron from the room.

“No. No!” Ron shouts as Hermione feels herself jerking forward and losing her footing. Her eyes can’t even twist back to her friends because now that Bellatrix knows who she is there is no telling what damage she has planned. Just as Ron’s voice seems to disappear, he can be heard calling out one last plea, “Take me instead!”

Bellatrix laughs after several doors shut and windows are charmed shut, whispering as she drags her heels across the floor. “Only if she dies, Weasley.”

Hermione feels Greyback’s kick to her side, muscles tensing immediately upon contact. Vomit tries to work through her esophagus but she refuses. A hard swallow gives her only a second to compose herself. Now on her knees she tries to scoot away from her abuser but she doesn’t make it far because only a second later the other Snatchers take turns casting horrible spells at her. Pains in her eyes, burning insides, blood trickling out of her ears and nose; the smallest things that bring the greatest pain.

But those are nothing compared to when Belltrix flips her onto her back and sits down heavily upon her hips. The weight against her bones is crushing and she wriggles around in an attempt to do something, although she isn’t sure what. There really is no reason for her struggle except that Hermione is refusing to be tortured without fighting back.

* * *

 

Draco still could not understand what it was that he was seeing. The Golden Trio was in his home, in Malfoy Manor, captured by Snatchers and brought there as a prize. His parents had made him attend his seventh year even when he argued he would not pass his classes, that he would be more use at home, and the only salvation during those times were Hermione Granger’s letters.   _Dear Reader_ had become one of his favorite things to see, sometimes jumping in place if the words were spoken to closely together.

And then just five minutes ago he’d been called from his desperate attempt to do long neglected assignments in the study. Upon arrival he sees the girl he loves more than his own family and he somehow manages to cover for her. It wasn’t, isn’t, enough because now she’s being attacked. Bellatrix had shut off the entire room before he and his parents were able to leave.

His eyes are fixed on her knowing that Bellatrix will kill Hermione if she must. Bloody Hell, he’s completely aware that she will kill her if she feels like it. His aunt did not understand restraint in her viciousness. It was one of the reasons Lord Voldemort valued _her_ and despised _him_. The Malfoy family was a joke amongst the Death Eaters and it was his fault.

And he would not make it any better if he tried to save Hermione. It would do nothing for his chances with her either. She loved Ronald Weasley now, and he could be heard sobbing beneath the floorboards. Hearing her name shrieked from his lips reminded Draco of his place. She told him to remain an enemy because she cared too much to let him sacrifice everyone he loved. Few of them as there were, Draco remains in his place as she requested. His mother’s hand slides over the small of his back, tugging him closer into her side. As for his father, he is standing with a raised chin and discontent in his eyes.

Draco was able to keep a straight face as his aunt cast spell after spell after spell trying to force Hermione to speak. The charms started off relatively harmless and became more violent as she depleted her reserves of tolerance. He sees that his courageous, Gyffindor love has a high threshold towards the pain which makes him immediately thankful. However, the first time she starts to groan in pain he feels himself closing his eyes and looking away.

His mother senses Draco’s discomfort because her free hand reaches across her body and lands on his shoulder. As her thumb rubs small circles over his pristine cotton shirt he tries to filter out her evolving howls of pain. A once coughed grumble is now a high pitched scream of agony. Draco nearly steps forward with the intent of pulling his aunt off of Hermione but he hesitates. It is just a moment too late when he commits to the consequences of helping her because he hears the one spell he was hoping wouldn’t cross Bellatrix’ lips so soon…

* * *

 

It hits Hermione like broken glass pumping directly from her heart, “Crucio!”

She can feel her heart racing and hear her veins ripping in beat with her fear. When she breathes in it is as though acid is working up her nostrils and down her throat. Simultaneously to all of this her muscles are melting. Skin seems to be hanging loosing around the bones of her body. These are the sensations filling her body when Bellatrix uses the illegal curse in an attempt to steal Hermione’s answers. She’d been whispering questions but the after effect of all the spells was preventing her from hearing them clearly.

Almost as soon as she has cast the spell she’s ended it. Hermione is able to look around the room and see blotches of yellow and green in her vision. The ringing in her ears drops to nothing but a low murmur of her steadying heart rate. Bellatrix doesn’t move but she seems to be temporarily distracted.

Instantly Hermione feels revived and she wonders if it Draco’s doing. Bellatrix is cruel and deviant and hateful, she is the perfect warrior. However, Hermione does not feel as if the Malfoy relative could manage something so helpful under such a tightly monitored situation. She twists her head away from her aggressor and tries to look over her bloodied forehead. She cannot see Draco clearly but she does see him and hopes he can see the strength he gives her. No matter if he is being forced to watch, she is simply glad to have someone she considers an ally in the room.

“You have been ignoring me, you filthy Mudblood. Now that you’ve had your break can you tell me _now_ where you got my sword?” Bellatrix tries being nice for a moment but she doesn’t contain herself long. Before Hermione can even respond she finds herself howling her pains more violently than ever.

“I DO NOT KNOW!” She screams through gritted teeth and the agony. The spell ends for a moment, only long enough for brief condemnation.

“Liar!” Another shrill erupts from her throat which awakens the truest dread in Hermione’s chest. As soon as she gets the one syllable word past her lips which appear bloodstained, the spell is repeated, “Crucio!”

It feels different this time, almost as it morphs to the fears of the victim. Hermione did not study the forbidden spells closely, although she wished to very often. Now she regrets it but that seems to be the effect of the spell. Every decision pours through her mind and play out in front of her foggy vision. The times that she could have helped Harry sooner if she had not been a goody-two-shoes always abiding by the rules; the opportunities she could have acted more quickly; the tests she missed points on, and so much more.

The memories of Draco, in which she invested much of her free time in the fifth year, causes struggle for her to suppress before they cause her to cry out apologies. Or worse, her regrets for letting him go. She hated herself for turning him away and knowing he was in the room right now watching her – and that it is her fault he cannot save her. Up until that point tears had not been shed but this broke her down and forced her to cry. It burnt her skin as tears fell past her dirty cheeks and rolled over her ears into her hair.

It stops again and Hermione is left gasping for air as she can cry on her own accord now. Shaking her head is all she manages in a pathetic attempt to forget the doubt she felt in herself. It was always there, haunting her in the form of nightmares and bouts of excessive anxiety. The spell brought out the worst of her fears and insecurities which causes a unique pain, an emotional pain that will never be healed. Hermione thinks that this must be how Bellatrix debilitated Neville’s parents.

“Tell me where you found it! Tell me who betrayed the secrets of my vault!” Bellatrix is beyond the stage of interrogation. Wherever she was storing the sword must have been top secret and well-guarded. Hermione feels the witch shift her weight on her hip bones which are obviously bruising simply from the drop against them when Bellatrix sat originally. She was malnourished and unhealthy due to the trio’s stealthy travel. Maintaining a low profile with the most sought after wizard alive had its drawbacks, and unfortunately the comforts of regular dining and nourishing foods were compromised.

“It is a fake. I swear to you, the sword we have is a fake. We haven’t gone to any vaults. I am not lying to you.” Hermione keeps her voice as low and as level as possible through her tight throat and clogged nose. Between the mucous and the blood she was surprised she wasn’t dizzy from a lack of oxygen, surely her supply was depleting quickly.

“Fine, Mudblood, if you won’t break under the use of magic then maybe I need to think like _your_ kind. Plus, I don’t mind drawing blood the old fashion way.” Bellatrix uses a bit of a seductive tone which Hermione hopes wasn’t intentional. This should normally scare her, it should scare anyone in her position, but somehow she cannot conjure the fear of manual pain. At first Hermione doesn’t even feel the skin on her arm being cut open, small strokes one right after the other in a sluggish succession.

After Bellatrix gets further down Hermione’s arm she starts grinding her teeth and humming through the pain. She assures herself that if she can lie for a few more minutes that Bellatrix Lestrange will accept the defeat. That opens a new can of worms, as it were; because Hermione knows that defeat will result in one of two ways, neither of which she is excited to face. She might die or someone else will drug to the surface to die in her place. Either way she knows the end result is painful to someone.

“Mudblood.” Bellatrix pulls up Hermione’s arm and shoves the wound over her face. Blood is smearing over tears and crusted blood from earlier. The edges of her skin is pushing back and ripped as the dreadful woman continues rubbing it back and forth and in circles over her face. Hermione can only guess that this act is an attempt to make her _taste_ the dirtied blood flowing through her body. Her lips remain tight, however, as she continually refuses to submit to the evil servant of Voldemort.

“It is a fake. It has to be. How else could three _kids_ have found it? Stop this interrogation.” Draco’s mother seems to have had enough because her heels are clicking loudly against the floor. Other shuffling is taking place but Hermione has to strain just to keep focus on the conversation between the sisters.

“Can’t you see this child is lying, Narcissa? Or has Draco learned his frailty from his mother?” Hermione manages to open her eyes and see that Bellatrix moved to carry on her conversation. She pulls herself upright into a sitting position and looks over her shoulder at Malfoy. Seconds later some of her wounds heal, the smaller and manageable ones at least. She knows that it is her sly and cunning Slytherin reader that is doing it with his well-developed charm work.

“This torture cannot continue in my house, Bella. Not while my son is home!” The sisters are in one another’s faces as each defies the wishes of the other. With the pair of them at odds, Hermione puts herself on her feet and tries to hobble away from the torture scene. No sooner has she moved a few inches away are the words of a powerful spell being shouted from Draco’s lips, “Stupify!”

The only way he knows to save her and himself, Hermione thinks before everything gets the chance to fade.

* * *

 

Draco is jealous of Ronald Weasley even though he should be trying to help the only girl, the only _woman_ , he loves and will ever love. His aunt is torturing her ruthlessly in front of him and yet he simply stands there with his chin held tight against his chest and his eyes peering up cautiously as her tattered body. Whenever Bellatrix stops for a moment to compose herself and ask her stupid question again Draco manages to help in the only way possible – by healing some of her more minor afflictions. Fortunately he has watched Hermione so closely for so long he can tell that it is actually beneficial for her. He even sees a tiny smile in her eyes when she glances up to him.

But unfortunately he cannot enjoy it because blood is spilt across her porcelain cheeks. Ronald Weasley can be heard rioting in the lower chambers where Harry Potter is loudly lulling him, swearing that Hermione is a strong girl and will not suffer without pride and dignity. Draco wishes he could go comfort his enemy, _his competition_ , if only to bring joy to her. If she was choosing Ronald Weasley then he wants to do whatever he can to help her.

Once she gets on her feet Draco cannot bare to see the struggle in her limbs. She is in too much pain so he decides that if he is to bring relief to her without raising any suspicion then all he can do is the knock her unconscious. This will allow her body to retreat into a natural state of healing. Once her body drops to the ground he begins walking over to her.

“I’ll take her downstairs, Aunt Bella.” Draco murmurs as he walks past her, looking down his nose angrily at her. Bellatrix and his mother cross their arms, aware that things have gotten away from them; this is why they need a leader to tell them how to deal with tasks set out for them. Draco picks up Hermione’s ransacked body which hangs limply in his arms. She is not nearly as heavy as he expects which causes him to breathe harshly through his mouth, cold air drying out his throat instantly. Hermione is obviously malnourished which will make an already damaging experience with his aunt even worse on her frail body.

Once downstairs Draco pokes an arm out from underneath her to open the cell where Weasley and Potter are located. There’s no hesitation when he breaks the barrier, Potter comes up and takes her away. Concern must be on his face because neither of her friends address him cruelly. Weasley even seems to stare are Draco a little longer than he should have, probably recognizing that Draco wishes he could express himself on this matter honestly and openly.

“Much of the harm done is repairable if you are quick. I hear Lovegood knows a thing or two.” Draco doesn’t even know what compels him to lean into Potter with this suggestion. None of them have wands but advice is advice and it should not be taken lightly in these times. Very few people can use their magic without wands. Draco had to train himself relentlessly in order to accomplish even just a few spells. His family swooned over his ability to do so much now without speaking, even without his wand present.

Just before he leaves the cell he slides an extra wand from his sleeve, the only way he can guarantee Hermione’s safety. He was given the Elder Wand to carry by Lord Voldemort, much to his surprise then and now, but he could not use that wand while at school. So he had his actual wand on hand at all times as well. As hard as it would be to part with such a well-made and well-trained piece of essential equipment he knows that Luna will only be successful enough to save Hermione from permanent damage with a wand. She is younger than all of them, although no less talented, and requires the equipment to channel her magical abilities.

“Keep it safe.” Draco states politely before he returns to his family upstairs. Bellatrix and his parents are discussing the possibilities on how the Golden Trio must have retrieved the Sword of Gryffindor. It would have been next to impossible if the relic was in her vault. Draco doesn’t care much for the conversation but he listens to them anyway.

“Hermione Granger is not to be underestimated. She is one of the most monitored witches of her age. She is brilliant and powerful. It is sickening to think that she is considered comparable to those with pure blood who are truly talented without even trying.” His father is looking directly at him, using Draco’s own words to describe Hermione Granger. Once last year when his family was questioned about the threat that Potter posed, as well as his friends; Draco had wanted to establish a fear in Death Eaters in approaching her. He said those words with disgust in his voice, difficult to have conjured in the first place, but he sees in his father’s face now that he suspects they were not disdainful words. They are compliments but he doesn’t allow the knowledge to show when he calmly turns his head to Bellatrix, “The resistance she was able to display during your questioning was remarkable. Disturbingly remarkable..”

Bellatrix is upset by this and starts casting spells to break anything and everything around them. Mother is starting to weep even though she is more or less frustrated over her sister’s childish behavior. If there was anyone as close to hating this side of the war as Draco was it had to be his mother. He never questions his mother and her motivations. She doesn’t play on the side of Lord Voldemort, she does it all for the people she loves. Draco gets that from her and it is obvious in their pained expressions whenever there is a shift in the war. As there was today in the very room they stand in.

Then there is sudden commotion downstairs. The Snatchers are the first to catch on and head directly towards the door. Unconsciously, Draco casts a spell to lock the door before he races to join them. It is only a small deterrence but the gaggle of morons standing in front of the door prevents the other three adults with wands on hand from getting through immediately. It is Draco’s hope that whatever is happening below is an escape attempt that is going successfully. He would ask for nothing more in his life if Hermione Granger could escape alive and in one piece. Her friends would heal her and breathe new life into her. She would find fresh motivations to win the war and ultimately free him of his obligations to a wicked man and his devilish army.

It is all happening too quickly for Draco to see exactly every little thing that happens. There is a small fire across the floors that is soon licking the lowest stairs. Snatchers howl and race back upstairs where Draco has remained practically still with his parents. His father is mumbling about Harry Potter having too many unpredictable allies and having too few of their own men penetrating the opposing side. Draco wishes to state that it is too late for infiltration attempts because the best man they had has already been found out and is running Hogwarts. Draco doesn’t believe that playing both sides of the war was Snape’s only trick and he wonders sometimes what the end game truly is for him. Everyone looks different, behaves differently, and even speak with different tones. Nothing is consistent on the side of the Dark Lord and this is hopefully what brings the bad guys down. Draco pleads for it.

After several minutes of struggle in the stairwell Bellatrix races back upstairs with fury in her eyes. Draco knows instantly that Hermione and her friends have escaped. Relief pumps in his veins more quickly than blood does. He enjoys the brief moment of light in his life because it allows him to _hope_. He hopes as he once did when he revealed himself to Hermione Granger as her reader so very long ago. He already committed himself to Hermione long ago, but now he promised himself to do whatever it takes to ensure that her side wins – the good guys achieve victory.

Everyone begins filtering from the room, except Draco who meanders to the door leading downstairs to their dungeon, to the cells, to the gallows, whatever they should properly be called. It shames him to have the room in Malfoy Manor to begin with so he never really calls it by the proper name if it even really has one. He’s pulled from his thoughts when his mother places a hand on his shoulder.

“My love, I can see the secret behind your eyes.” His mother’s voice is but a soft lull in his ears as he starts softly casting spells to repair the steps below and smother whatever fire still smolders. He doesn’t acknowledge her straight away but he smiles to himself, very briefly.

“Then help me do what is right. When it is in your hands to turn the tides do not hesitate.” His mother tightens her grip and pulls him closer. For several minutes it is silent and the temperature seems to drop in the house. Without a doubt Draco can identify what is happening. Bellatrix has called for reinforcements. They will need to check her vault and if Potter is there with his friends then Bellatrix will ensure that they die – regardless of Lord Voldemort’s orders. She is rogue when she is offended and nothing could be worse in her eyes than a Mudblood stealing from her. Possibly twice, even.

Footsteps can be heard approaching and this is when his mother finally responds, “Your happiness is all I want. If that is what it takes then as a mother it is my duty to ensure I do what I must.”

Draco swears to himself he will hold her to these terms because he feels as though her time is fast approaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very proud of this chapter. I hope you felt that in my words.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Hogwarts ensues and - at last- Draco & Hermione find an ending to their story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was 17 typed pages so I can't promise I caught every little detail in my editing this evening. I hope you enjoy this chapter, as well as the entire story, regardless of what minor errors were left behind.

Hermione’s mind kept drifting back to the kiss she shared with Ron just a few moments ago. Now it was time to find Harry and _now_ is when she gets stuck in her silly romance story of all times! It takes someone who is at their best when they’re being brave to win a war and nobody does it better than Ronald Weasley. He is pointing out that Harry is in the Room of Requirement. They immediately decide to race off to seek out their friend.

This was a war so Hermione wasn’t surprised to see students on the ground, damaged or otherwise, but it brought tears over her cheeks as they race against time. She knew the prophecy and leaving Harry unattended in this battle was hardly the clever move. She should have protested but she didn’t. There was no way to change it now but she could move faster. So she slams her feet down harder and commands her muscles to move more gracefully. Before she realizes it she is striding far ahead of Ron and making her way over steps as though she is flying.

When the pair of them enter the Room of Requirement it is difficult to see. Hermione goes to grab Ron’s hand but she hears a very familiar curse being cast, “Crucio!” It ignites pain and anger inside of her heart and it makes her move more deliberately than she ever has before, feet leading her to Harry’s side. She finds that Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy are also there. Goyle is the one attacking Harry while Crabbe is defending his violent friend. Draco, on the other hand, is shouting at them.

“THE DARK LORD WANTS HIM ALIVE!” He is too busy repeating this that the blonde man doesn’t even realize that Hermione is present. She knows that he has the power to do more but for some reason he is not using his abilities. Harry is growing weary and this triggers the maternal response that has long rooted itself into Hermione’s personality. She flails her arm out and disarms Crabbe and Goyle. This snaps everyone’s attention to her. Draco’s heart may as well have fallen from his sleeve because Hermione sees his face lose whatever color it has instantly. They are now confronting each other on opposite sides of the war.

“You guys can join our side. It doesn’t need to be this way.” Harry suggests. He has never believed that murder was the answer. More than anyone in this war it was Harry Potter himself who did not want people to die. If dying himself would have stopped Voldemort then the boy would have done it years ago. This is what makes Harry so admirable – he spares even his enemies. There are plenty of men who wouldn’t, and one of them is her other friend Ronald Weasley.

“They don’t deserve redemption.” Her red-headed maybe-boyfriend sneers at them. This causes Hermione to interject because there is no need to take it further.

“They _deserve_ it but they do not _want_ it.” Neither of the boys says anything further, and the Slytherins remained rooted in their spots. Hermione is watching Draco now to see if he tries to defend against her statement, waiting to see if he steps forward and offers to switch as easily as he had years ago. She stops paying attention to him after several long minutes of motionless staring. Behind him is a crown, or a tiara, glimmering faintly in the evening light that lingers. Instantly Hermione recognizes that this is the diadem they were looking for, Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem. Trying to hide the excitement and realization is difficult but she manages to tap Harry’s arm. They look at one another and nod. Apparently Harry has pieced it together at the exact same time she has.

Unfortunately, their faces betray them because Draco spins around to grab the diadem and Goyle takes a spare wand from Draco’s hand. Hermione notes that it is not the Elder Wand. When Dobby came to save them from Malfoy Manor, Luna had mentioned Draco was carrying a spare and gave it to her. Hermione wonders if he had taken up carrying spares during these terrible times. Harry had also told her that Draco was in possession of the Elder Wand which is not what Goyle has taken from his friend now. He slurs his words and casts a spell before Hermione, Ron, or Harry can defend against it.

Everything is chaos as the Room of Requirement is burning. Everyone has been running away from it, at least everyone who is left - as Goyle caught himself on fire. Draco tries keeping Crabbe at pace but it is unsuccessful. Harry seems to have found a broom and sweeps up Crabbe on the front of it. After that Ron bolts ahead to grab his own broom. The flames are at Draco’s heels and if he so much as takes a wrong step he will be dead. She finds herself refusing to leave without him at her side. Ron and Harry both are hovering above her as Draco catches up. Ron forcefully pulls Hermione up while Harry is helping Draco aboard.

Once outside the Room of Requirement Crabbe punches Harry, intent on stealing his wand. There is a brief struggle but soon Draco is putting his friend into an unconscious state. Now there are four of them standing idly in the corridors of a school under siege. Draco doesn’t hide the fact that he is more interested in Hermione but she blushes at his candor. Ron steps in between them with shifting eyes. Hermione does make herself give him a reassuring glance but it is broken immediately when Harry tries to open the door of the Room of Requirement before it disappears.

“NO!” He is shouting. Everything is still happening so fast that the intelligent young witch struggles to figure out why Harry is panicking. Then there are shrilling screams. Draco grabs Harry’s shoulders. Ron pushes Draco away. Hermione stands there doing nothing whatsoever. Figures are blending back and forth until the screams stop.

“The diadem was in there, Malfoy! I need to go in to destroy it!” Harry verbally attacks his enemy.

“And the fiendfire will continuously damage it until it is fully destroyed.” Draco parries, defending quickly before being forced into submission, “Besides the other horcrux in the room needs more precise attention than that headpiece!”

Hermione jolts back into real time. Draco is telling Harry the one thing she hasn’t allowed herself to believe for months. She had long ago suspected that Harry was a horcrux himself, albeit not an intentional one, but to say it out loud and unguarded… to a young man who might not have even guessed…

“Harry?” Ron whimpers in the resulting awkward silence. Harry is breathing heavily. She looks nervously to him and then to Draco and then finally to Ron. Everyone but Ron seems to have known this which causes him to choke on his words. “How long?”

Nobody responds.

“HOW LONG!” He shrieks again, tears obviously stinging his eyes and blurring his vision.

“I theorized about it several months ago.” Hermione admits her knowledge first. It seems better for her to speak before everyone else since she’d just kissed him. It might help keep him calm, she thinks. Ron’s jawline tightens in contrast to her expectations.

“Just after the vault I realized that perhaps the reason I hear them is because I am one.” This means that Harry knew coming into Hogwarts that he was a horcrux, or that it was great possibility. Hermione catches a glimpse of Ron balling his fists.

“What about you, Malfoy?” Ron barely gets the words from behind his teeth.

 _Draco_ , Hermione subconsciously finds herself correcting her friend silently.

“I’ve known for years. After Malfoy Manor became a headquarters and Snape began regular visits for meetings I overheard the term being used. It took some time and hard research but eventually I found the answers. Everyone knows the story of Harry Potter and the night his parents were killed. It didn’t take me long to guess that he, too, had a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of him.” Hermione listens closely, her chest buckling under the pressure as her reader informs them that he’s known not for hours, not for weeks, not for months even. But he has known this information for _years._

None of them speak. Instead, Harry pivots and leads the trio away. Hermione reminds herself that she must follow him because this war is bigger than her heart. Even though a piece of her wishes to stay with Draco she knows that she must save the world first. With the smallest glance backwards she swears she sees Draco open the doors to the Room of Requirement as Harry intended to only minutes ago.

 _A hero amongst villains_ , Hermione thinks to herself before sliding her hand into Ron’s with full dedication to the war once more.

* * *

 

Draco races back into the Room of Requirement as soon as Hermione is moving down the stairs. He wonders when Harry will realize that he’s stolen the basilisk fang from his pocket. It was a lie when he said that the fiendfire would eventually destroy the diadem. It would take something more powerful than out-of-control dark magic. Now he has the fang, which he knew was used to destroy the diary in their second year – another horcrux, a story his father was forced to relive in shameful regularity from the Dark Lord.

Draco takes out the Elder Wand, even though it has never worked just right for him. It does do basic spells and so the desperate man begins casting various spells to kill the flames. Aguamenti; jets of water help get rid of the flames in front of him creating a walkway but it doesn’t necessarily prevent the flames engulfing the items around him; or from sweeping out and brushing the edge of his clothes. Draco pulls his suit jacket off and pushes another spell past his teeth. Impervious; this should prevent the flames from getting to his torso and arms at the very least. Frigore flamma; this is better known as the flame-freeze spell. He starts casting at large objects hoping that it will cool the area around him down.

He knows that he cannot cast it on himself so he decides to approach an item he’s already charmed. Seeing that it has surprisingly worked he begins making a path back through the Room of Requirement. Each step he forces himself to analyze the area around him while also seeking out the diadem. It is not long at all before he finds himself back the heart of the flames with little cover.

Sweat is drizzling down his face and his late friend is but a pile of crisp ash and bone in the middle of the floor. Draco was sure that he had not dropped it that far back. He is now aware that he has obviously missed it so he turns back around and starts walking back out. His heart is racing and the heat of the fire is beginning to affect his breathing. Half way back through the room Draco realizes that he’s suddenly dizzy. He nearly forgets why he is even in the room in the first place. Suddenly he realizes that he knows exactly what this is, he had done too many essays with a medicinal thesis to _not_ know what is happening. This was the early signs of heat exhaustion. He was moving too quickly through such a hot area. Any minute now, as rapidly as he was going through the symptoms list, Draco was sure he would fall over and faint. If he passes out then he has no chance of surviving the fiendfire. It was still too strong and his spells wouldn’t last forever.

If he wasn’t looking for something he realizes he could have disapparated already but there is no other option. He must absolutely find this diadem and destroy it. One thing that he must do to prevent him from blacking out is getting water in his system, so he keeps his eyes out for a goblet. He is sure if he can get a drink or two he will be much better. Once he spots find a bowl he settles with it and immediately casts Aguamenti again.

As he drinks he hears a sobbing nearby. Draco drops the bowl and twists around trying to identify the location. The sobbing was undoubtedly coming from the horcrux and the sound was just _so_ clear. It had to be right next to him. The water gave him a brief adrenaline but it lasts only long enough for him to move too far into the fire. The leg of his pants catches fire for is split second but he swats it out immediately. Then he notices that he has wandered out enough to see the diadem is right in the middle of the pathway.

Draco wriggles out of his jacket and lays it on the floor to smother the flames. It is mostly successful so he just repeats this action until he is on top of the diadem. With the heat engulfing him at an overwhelming rate Draco bolts back through the path that he made with his jacket and charmed items. As he gets closer to the exit the hotter the self-created passage gets, which means he must be close to fainting. He gets so near that he just springs for the door, but he slips on the ground and loses his energy as soon as he crashes against the floor. For a few minutes he simply stares at the doors only a foot or two away in utter defeat. Yet he knows that his pity cannot last long. Draco pulls out the basilisk fang and looks at the charred diadem in his hands. There’s searing pain moving up the left side of his body and even though he knows that it has to be flames he convinces himself that it is just the pain of the fall.

Then, before he loses his opportunity, he stabs the fang into the diadem.

* * *

 

After witnessing Snape’s death the three of them are standing on the stairs of Hogwarts’ main hall. Harry is explaining how he became a horcrux to Ron who was still very distraught. Hermione was already crying but for more reasons than just the death that has littered the last twenty-four hours of her life. She is sad that she was not smart enough to save Harry from inevitable death, she is sad that she cannot sacrifice herself, she is sad she did not tell Malfoy that she never stopped caring about him, she is sad that Ron will lose his best friend, she is sad that Voldemort was born under terrible circumstances, she is sad that Hogwarts has been the site for this battle; the list never ends. Everywhere she looks she finds a reason to cry.

“Hermione, you’ve been brilliant.” He whispers as he leans in for a hug, “There is nobody more a hero than you.”

“You know that Malfoy lied, don’t you?” She sobs into his neck. If her friend must die then he must know that Draco Malfoy was not the enemy. Under no circumstances will she allow Severus Snape to be redeemed and not her beloved reader.

“Is this really the time?” Harry says, forgetting that he won’t have any other chance for a brief moment. After his initial surprise his face softens and he allows Hermione to speak. Besides, he must remember that she’s rarely said something meaningless during times like these.

“When he said that the diadem would eventually be destroyed in the fiendfire he was lying to you. He went back to destroy it himself so that you wouldn’t sacrifice yourself over the wrong thing. Draco Malfoy was a _friend_.” Hermione can barely keep herself together as she’s talking about the Slytherin hero, the second one. For years when she was younger, when they were all younger, the idea of a good Slytherin was abstract and impossible. Now they had discovered two in one evening.

“What do you mean he was a friend?” Ron asks with a squeaky voice. He’s been trying to hide his own sorrow but this forces him to speak. How could it not? They just established their feelings for each other and now she’s admitting that she’s friends with a boy who, as far as Ron was concerned, never stopped treating her like dirt. It is reasonable for him to be confused.

“I don’t have time now to explain but he went back into the Room of Requirement so that you could save the world, Harry James Potter. Don’t you forget it!” Hermione commands as she leans back into Harry, not even realizing that she’d separated to begin with.  Ron joins them and the moment of silence becomes awkward. The knowledge of Harry’s doom is too painful for any of them to feel comfortable in each other’s presence. When Hermione opens her eyes she has an idea, which is directly related to the fact that she sees Draco Malfoy running at them – Elder Wand in hand.

“Harry, I know this is going to send the wrong message but I need you to disarm Draco Malfoy right now.” Harry and Ron both jerk away from her as she spins him around. Harry doesn’t really process what she’s asking so she tells him again, “Disarm him right now!”

Even Draco pokes his arm out and encourages him, “You have to do it! It’s your only hope!” Hermione is flattered instantly that she and Draco are on the same page. If Harry disarms Draco then that will make him the true owner of the Elder Wand. Voldemort already said he’d be ‘taking care of Malfoy’ later so eventually he would get the Elder Wand and use it against Harry.

“Harry!” Hermione, Ron, and Draco all shout his name and finally elicit a response from him. Effortlessly he lifts his arm and disarms Malfoy. As soon as Harry has done this Draco bends over and takes the wand back. When he approaches the trio, Hermione notices immediately that his clothes are different and he’s got burn marks over his left hand, and over his neck.

Everything is silent. Everyone is watching Draco carefully, Ron and Harry for different reasons than Hermione. Time is ticking and Harry only has so much longer to turn himself over. Draco reaches into pocket and hands over the Basilisk fang that should have been on Harry’s person. Hermione scoffs before she shakes her head. This means Draco pilfered it during the scuffle he had with Harry earlier.

Hermione opens her mouth to speak, to offer to fix some of his wounds. But he takes off running after that. How he is managing is beyond her because she can only guess that he burnt his entire left side during his return to the Room of Requirement. Her heart drops into the pit of her stomach watching him go, not knowing if she will ever see him again either. Seconds later, Harry is following in his footsteps, more or less in a figurative manner. When both boys are completely out of sigh Ron comes over and takes Hermione’s hand.

“We can only wait now. Let’s go find the others” Hermione nods but does not move. Her eyes are stuck on the last place she would ever see Harry, and possibly Draco as well. Ron must tug her away. She wants to cry again as they leave but she has no more tears left to spill.

* * *

 

After leaving the Golden Trio to their own devices Draco was able to meet up with his mother before she reached Voldemort’s hiding place in the Forbidden Forest. He handed over the Elder Wand, saying “Please give this to the Dark Lord. It belongs to him.” He reminded his mother of their agreement before going separate ways.

Draco knew her time was coming. She would be faced with the opportunity deceive the Dark Lord and if she didn’t take it then Draco would never forgive her. In the meantime he made his way back through the school, in search of anyone he knew. Harry Potter had been given an hour to turn himself over and who knew how long after that would something happen.

There’s little way to keep track of time when wandering the rubble but eventually Draco finds Blaise and Pansy. They were hiding behind a cracked column near the Great Hall where the wounded are being treated and healed, and the dead are being covered. He approaches them cautiously but finds that he is welcomed immediately, which is a surprise to him.

“Oh, Draco!” Pansy sobs. She squeezes Blaise’s hand before coming over to him and hugging him tightly, “We thought you were with Voldemort and the Death Eaters.”

Draco’s brows furrow as he wonders how in the dark Pansy’s family had been keeping her. Draco knew for a fact that her father was a Death Eater. He expected that Pansy would have been aware of her parents’ stand point in the war. Or perhaps she knew but ignored it? He refuses to dwell on it and shakes his head.

“Not anymore. Not ever, really. I did what I had to for my family but my loyalties belong to Potter and what he stands for.” Draco finally admits the truth out loud. He was never invested in creating a pureblood society amongst witches and wizards. Blaise joins him and pulls Pansy into his chest where she continues to cry, sometimes mumbling about how unfair all the destruction is to everyone who loved Hogwarts. Blaise hushes her before turning his focus to Draco.

He asks about the burns on Draco’s left side. There is no quick way to explain it so that Pansy also understands so he offers the version that will save time. At the very least it will make sense to Blaise – he was the one who asked anyway.

“Voldemort used horcruxes to keep himself alive. One of them was in the Room of Requirement. Goyle cast a hellish fiendfire spell that killed him. Potter got me and Crabbe out but I’d lost the item inside. After he left I went back inside to destroy it for good. Unfortunately, the heat got to me and made me sluggish. At least I came out with my life.” Draco knows he has not given the story any justice but Blaise understands fully and that is all that matters. For a few minutes he remains completely silent and listens to Pansy’s steadying breaths. Once she has composed herself she breaks away and looks Draco square in the face. Her lips are puckered but in a way that seems analytic. She is trying to read him but Blaise doesn’t let her struggle too long.

“If we survive this she better not let you pass her by a second time. Nobody will love her the way you do.” Blaise has such a calm air in his words when he speaks. It causes Pansy to light up with a smile at his words, probably because he has answered her unspoken question. She doesn’t hesitate now to ask Draco who the girl is out loud. He doesn’t feel as if he should tell her but on some level he still feels as if there’s a debt to be paid.

So, since he has no intention of returning to Lord Voldemort’s side after this, Draco decides he may as well reveal himself to someone other than Blaise. He returns a smile to Pansy and even leans in to kiss her cheek. She once elicited the worst in Draco because she always pressed herself onto him. However, the war and two years of time have allowed him to rehabilitate those natural reactions. Now she feels like company, like an old friend.

“In our fifth year I fell in love with Hermione Granger. She rejected me because of the danger it would bring to everyone we ever knew. So I stayed with my family of Death Eaters and she stuck it out with Potter. But I have done everything I can to give them the advantage. There is nothing more I can do but wait for the end and hope that it was enough.” He finds himself with stinging eyes. Just as he thinks it, Pansy points out exactly why he is so emotional on the matter aloud.

“For the war and for her.” She says quietly. Her eyes reveal that the story is a tragedy. Two young adults who love each other dearly but they represent opposite sides of a war. How could that have any sort of happy ending? Draco has been doing well to keep himself from thinking the worst. He knew that he could die; he knew that she could die; they could both die. But the most horrific ending of them all was that they both lived but they could never be together.

* * *

 

Harry lay limply on the ground and he can hear Voldemort command Narcissa Malfoy to check him, ensure that he is dead. Since he has just had a near-death experience surely he can pass as dead so he remains perfectly still. He forces himself to continue taking the shallowest of breaths possible. Harry refuses any reaction when Mrs. Malfoy’s hand touches his own to check for a pulse. Her cheek brushes his as well.

“I am saving you because you saved my son, Potter.” She whispers delicately. A few moments tick away before she shifts slightly away.

He keeps his heart in check and his mind at bay in preparation for the events to take place soon. This is a war and he is a very key player in the process. He chose not to die when he was in limbo. He chose to come back and fight. So fight he would! Narcissa stands up only a moment later and twists in place, cracking leaves just beyond the small of his back, announcing after she stops moving, “Harry Potter is dead.”

* * *

 

Hermione refuses to break down at the sight of Harry’s dead body in Hagrid’s arms. She stumbles to the front of the group in disbelief even though she had just bid him farewell such a short while ago. Ron is behind her with dirtied clothes and the sting of loss fresh in his heart. As Voldemort starts requesting for people to join him he seems to be staring in one particular direction. Hermione daringly moves forward even further to see exactly who it is that Voldemort has locked on specifically.

Draco Malfoy.

“No.” She whispers to herself quickly. Draco is slowly moving forward. One step, two, three, and four! He is almost half way across the clearing between Voldemort’s menaces and Hogwarts’ loyalists. Hermione’s heart is pounding so loudly that she doesn’t even hear Neville emerge. His speech must be compelling because Voldemort is focused on him. _Everyone_ is watching him except Hermione and Draco. Instead she is locked on Draco who is no longer moving. Then he is looking at someone else. Hermione traces his gaze back to his mother whose lips are moving only enough for someone notice if they are watching. Draco is watching and as soon as he processes what she is trying to say to him he moves towards her again, only more quickly this time.

She deems him a traitor, or at least she tries. He should not have gone back over to Voldemort’s people but he has. Hermione is terribly upset and barely notices that everything around her is frenzied. There are cheers and war cries. Spells are being cast again. When she redirects her focus she notes that Harry is still alive. Harry is actually alive! Everyone backs into the school’s structure as the war begins once again. Ron takes Hermione by the wrist just as Neville is sent flying backwards through the door way. A barrier is put in place temporarily as everyone tries to regroup.

There is little time to plan strategically. Harry instructs that Nagini, Voldemort’s snake, is the only horcrux left. He says that it is up to them to kill her. Once the last horcrux is destroyed there will be nothing left but the tiniest sliver of soul imaginable that makes up Voldemort’s physical existence. At that time, Harry will able to end his enemy once and for all.

That leaves Hermione and Ron to destroy Nagini. There is no hesitation once Harry Potter runs off past the barrier to provoke Voldemort to follow him. As soon as he is out of sight Hermione pulls Ron alongside her, heading back out into the unprotected parts of Hogwarts to track down the serpent horcrux.

* * *

 

As soon as Draco touches his mother’s hand he apparates. They are inside of the most protected part of Hogwarts, the Great Hall. Inside there are people being healed and mourned, but some Death Eaters were able to apparate in as he has done. Bellatrix is one of them. She is fighting with Ginny Weasley. The fierce young girl can defend herself well in spite of his aunt’s extensive training and practice. For a brief moment Ginny seems to pause which gives Bellatrix the chance to attack and take her down. He knows that she will cast to kill so Draco reaches down to a dead body nearby. It is a very young girl who had her wand held out in front of her which means she must have been murdered from behind.

Nobody is looking at Draco except for his mother. He defends against Bellatrix for Ginny Weasley which gives her mother a chance to step in now. Narcissa turns her head and walks over to somebody who is injured very badly. She must know that her sister is about to die. Draco does not stop himself from watching, though, because he knows that she deserves it. He wishes to see justice served upon her. She hurt Hermione in ways that cannot be forgotten and he feels a vengeance satisfied when Mrs. Weasley brings her down for good.

After that, many of the Death Eaters flee the Great Hall; Draco presumes they are abandoning the war all together. Many of Voldemort’s followers already ‘jumped ship’ immediately after Harry Potter revealed that he was still alive, but there was also the possibility that they went to seek out weaker victims. As it becomes obvious that there is no remaining threat in the hall, Draco mimics his mother; helping anyone who he is capable of healing. As he walks around he happens across Neville Longbottom, passed out with the Sword of Gryffindor not far from his reach. Draco squats down to him and touches his head. He’s just been knocked unconscious which is something to be thankful for. His hands reach out to shake him awake but Neville must sense it before it happens because he jerks upright and half groans, half shouts.

“I must save Harry Potter!” No sooner does Draco blink does Neville have the Sword of Gryffindor back in his hand. He runs off out of the Great Hall. Draco remains with his gaze cast around at all the people, his hands stuffed in his pocket. This war has brought disaster after disaster. Barely two minutes pass by before Draco decides that he will not wait and see as he’d told Pansy earlier. He has always been passive when it came to his roles in the war. But Draco wanted – no – _needed_ to do more to help ensure that Harry Potter defeats Voldemort. So he dashes after Neville in an attempt to play a more active role.

He catches up in no time; he is leaner and faster than Neville quite simply. They travel silently together, only speaking enough to decide in which direction Nagini would have travelled. Time ticks by very slowly as they wander the halls. Neville and Draco both decide unconsciously to round themselves back near the Great Hall when they hear a familiar scream sound off to the left off them, near the main staircase of the school.

Draco does not hesitate. He makes it up the first flight of stairs to find Hermione and Weasley huddling against the rubble on the landing. He watches her bury her face into his chest and even though he is jealous his anger is even stronger. Why isn’t Weasley doing more? Why did he let her stay there? Draco could think of at least a dozen different things he could be doing _more_ of in order to keep her safe. _Keep her alive!_

In his outrage, Draco begins casting protective spells on the two of them. Just then Neville catches up wielding a weapon strong enough to end Nagini in one fell swoop. Luckily, or unluckily as Draco sees it, the snake is still focused on Ron and Hermione. Before the predator is about to strike the prey Neville brings it upon himself to finally swing the sword down.

She must have detected his movement because just before the blade is meant to break surface the snake turns and attacks Neville. Draco realizes he must act quickly. Even though Neville’s body is falling to the ground, already dead, he has to reach for the blade. It clamored to the ground immediately when the serpent turned around. Lunging forward doesn’t provoke Nagini the way it normally would because the creature recognizes Draco. It had been in his home many times, after all. However, he does get too close and she makes a move. He narrowly misses her fangs but Draco has to refigure how to get ahold of the blade without alerting the enemy.

Then the soft sound of a rock being pelted at the serpent is heard. Draco jerks his gaze over to Hermione and Weasley who have both taken the opportunity to put some distance between them and Nagini. Now they were throwing rocks to distract her. It was a reckless plan but it did allow Draco to lean out and grab the blade. As soon as the metal could be heard scraping the focus was back on him.

Draco glances over at Hermione who was no longer embracing Weasley. Her eyes are stuck on him, very rarely bouncing back to the creature ready to attack him. Her body is tense and she is worried, conflicted even, between what she should do and what she wants to do. Draco knows this because he has felt that way for years.

Nagini raises herself into the air, ready to kill. Draco points the blade at the creature and waits. There’s a cool settled feeling in his chest as he realizes that the only way to bring the serpent down is if he goes down with her. That would be alright, he thought, because then the world would be a safer place for Hermione. Nagini’s hiss is blaring around him but he doesn’t hear any of it. He is too busy remembering the kiss in the library. The one and only kiss he would ever get to share with Hermione.

* * *

 

Hermione remembers the last time she used her time turner in fifth year; it was always for her classes and finals. But Draco had taken it and used it that year, too, in order to get a letter to her. The letter he had not included in the book he returned to her at the Three Broomsticks. She knew the laws surrounding the time turner, of course. Not more than five hours, never to save someone from death, never to kill someone, never to alter history significantly. Time travel was unreliable and difficult to master. You couldn’t even be allowed to see yourself for it would drive you mad. Hermione had to recite all of these laws when she received the time turner to ensure that she knew well what having this rare piece of equipment meant. Yet, Hermione had broken two of those rules in her third year.

The time turner still remains on her person as it had all those years ago. She balls her hand around it and looks for the telltale signs that this was the path she was meant to take. There would be signs that she uses the time turner, as there had been at Honeydukes. It was a shimmery feeling around her head that alerted her that the device was used then but no such feeling comes to her now. So now she sought nothing more than a blurry spot in her vision, a strange quiet noise, or an inconceivable action. Her eyes never left Draco and Nagini but she kept her senses sharp.

The serpent was only a few inches away from attacking Draco now. There was no more waiting. Hermione pulls out the time turner at record breaking speed and wraps it around her neck. She doesn’t even need a full hour. She just needs fifteen minutes. The time turner only works at thirty minute intervals, though, so she turns it appropriately and turns back to look at Ron who is more confused than ever.

“I’m sorry.” Hermione shouts just before she disappears backwards in time. Thirty minutes ago they were in the crowd watching Voldemort talk about Harry as if he were dead. Hermione appeared at the entrance of the school away from everyone. She knew that Neville had the Sword of Gryffindor so she would have to sit back and wait for people to disperse so she could get the weapon from him, leaving a duplicate in its place. As she waits she also decides she will need to immediately wipe that memory from Neville’s head in order for the time travel to be successful.

Hermione isn’t stuck sitting limbo for very long because only minutes later her friend’s body is flying directly at her. She dodges him, only barely, and then must watch as people carry on as usual. Once the crowds flee and spread out she walks over to Neville and the sword. He is knocked out so she feels relief wash over her. Hermione does not want to perform another memory charm, it is deceitful and powerful. She has never wished to be that strong and certainly has not gained a taste for it in that moment time. She acts quickly and duplicates the Sword of Gryffindor, and act she was tortured for by Bellatrix Lestrange. “Geminio.”

Irony makes her smile faintly as she places the false sword down next to Neville Longbottom.  He deserves to be the hero but instead she knows that he will die. Tears trickle over her cheeks but she does not allow herself long to grieve. She must find a way to get this to herself in the present so that she can save Draco and end this war. Hermione feels awful for not thinking of saving her friend before saving the man she loves, but if she can save just one life today then she will be satisfied regardless. She cannot allow herself to be a guilty hero.

She starts off in the same direction she’d gone with Ron. Up the stairs of the main hall, and to the right on the landing; it would be a few more minutes before she and Ron were faced with Nagini. So she would have to find a hiding spot until the opportune moment arises for her to attack. Hermione chuckles at the thought, _attack_. She is not that sort of person yet in a war it is one of two things people can do: attack or defend. Hermione defended all evening side-by-side with friends. They all kept falling to the enemy, injured or worse. She would not sit back and question whether the war could be won. Hermione would _win_ the war, or at the very least help.

Hermione places herself in the shadows of a column and keeps the sword at the ready. She forces herself to watch the actions playing out in front of her. Nagini advancing on her and Ron, Draco showing up and casting protective spells, Neville coming up behind him and dying in an attempt to end the war, her and Ron moving further away from the scene in an attempt to help Draco and – finally – Draco being faced with imminent death. This is her only chance. She pulls out her wand and points first at Ron.

“Impedimenta.”

Then at herself.

“Impedimenta.”

And finally, at Draco, “Impedimenta.”

Everyone is thrown backwards just in time. Nagini jolts at nothing. Draco is thrown atop the rubble which she and Ron had been cowering on a few minutes ago. She is caught up in her time line so Hermione waits for the serpent to turn away from her. It foes first turn towards the column where she is hiding but ends up returning attention to Draco atop the rubble. She will have to move quickly so she bites her lip and decides the only way to achieve success in this predicament is to apparate. She focuses very pointedly on the same location where Draco is laying.

A very quiet snap sounds when she moves. It is loud enough to distract Nagini. Hermione catches the last half of the sound when she lands. The snake is still facing the opposite direction and this is clearly her only window of opportunity. Hermione places her free hand on the hilt of the sword after dropping her wand and swings in front of her chest with all the force she can manage. She closes her eyes when the blade makes contact and is only confirmed in her actions when the sound of two separate parts of the creature smack against the stony floor. Seconds pass in solid silence before she opens her eyes to see what she has done.

Once she has that confirmation she looks over at Ron first, just to see if she knocked him unconscious when she blasted him away from the trouble. Hermione finds immediately that he was not because he is on his feet staring at her. A weak smile spreads over her lips. The war may be over but she knows there is another battle within herself yet to be won.

She then takes this opportunity to focus on Draco. She pulls her wand into her hand before placing her hands on the Slytherin’s shoulders to jar him back to consciousness. He doesn’t stir at first so Hermione pushes him around harder. Nothing happens. Panic swells in her chest as she becomes more violent in her movements, trying relentlessly to get some sort of reaction out of him. When he does, at last, awaken she lets out a loud gasp of relief.

Hermione pauses before she does anything else. She registers Ron’s presence behind her. He must have come over when she started tossing Draco about in worry. As one man sits up, the other kneels down and the three of them are sitting there quietly. Hermione looks at the ground and waits for someone else to talk, for someone else to ask the questions.

Thankfully, she does not wait very long.

“We should go back to the Great Hall. They may need us there.” Ron says kindly. Hermione sees Draco nodding to her left and follows suit effortlessly. The three of them head back to the Great Hall without another word. Hermione is grateful that Ron and Draco don’t ask about her use of the time turner, another defiant act against the laws set in place to prevent such selfish motivations. She is also thankful that neither of them brought up Hermione’s very obvious emotional conflict between the two of them.

* * *

 

Hermione is walking with Harry and Ron along the bridge after the war is over. Harry already recalled how he defeated Voldemort. As soon as Nagini was slain Voldemort had nothing else keeping him alive, and he was distracted by the loss enough for Harry’s spell to push forward. Not to mention, he’s explaining now that the Elder Wand never would have hurt him. Hermione listens as he explains that he’s been the true owner of the wand all along. She knew this, of course, because she made him disarm Malfoy earlier that evening. Ron didn’t realize until the explanation what he’d been encouraging his friend to do.

“You knew Malfoy as an ally, Hermione. Can you tell us the story behind that now?” Harry asks somewhat abruptly. It is not necessarily unrelated to the conversation that was taking place prior to the statement but it is somewhat disjointed from the rest of what he’s said.

“Can’t we leave it at the fact that he just told me?” Hermione replies as defenselessly as possible. Her eyes subconsciously scan the horizon wondering if she can see him gathering the dead. He offered to help with the burials while his parents were taken into custody. Harry was able to talk the remaining officials of the Ministry into leaving Draco behind but not his mother. His alliance was clear whereas his mother’s was harder to align. Even though she helped keep Harry alive and helped with the injured there was little other evidence to free her from trial.

“When did he tell you, then?” Ron whispers. Hermione senses the uncertainty in his voice; she sees his worry in the frown still hanging over his lips. Harry’s brows wrinkle in the middle of his forehead at the sadness in his best friend’s voice. Hermione knows immediately that he suspected something between her and Draco when she saved him. Although, the fact that she saved _only_ Draco must have been a loud enough statement about her feelings by itself.

“In our fifth year.” Hermione admits aloud. She and Ginny never spoke about the books and letters to one another, not after she explained the agreement between her and Draco. This was the first time since then that she was acknowledging that it happened at all. “Draco and I grew very close that year and he swore to me then that he would ensure that Voldemort did not win.”

Ron’s agony is all but vocalized when he rubs his hand nervously over his face, trying anxiously to wipe away grime, dirt, and jealousy from his features. Hermione feels herself blush more or less in terror than anything else. Harry turns so that he is facing her and only her. Ron uses this opportunity to walk a few feet away from the conversation taking place.

“I think you need to tell us the _entire_ story, ‘Mione. You’ve been keeping it secret for long enough.” Harry doesn’t speak maliciously. Hermione knows this. However, his irritation is clear as he understands that she did not trust her two closest friends enough to inform them of her alliance. She wonders if he has guessed now that she was attracted, is attracted still, to the Slytherin. He would have to suspect it, she decides, because why else would she not tell them about it?

So she starts from the beginning. Hermione tells them how out-of-place she felt at the time. How desperate she was to cling onto something from her past. She tells them that she left a Muggle book in the library and about the anonymous letters she received. There is so much happiness inside of her as she recounts the lovely story to them and how she developed an attraction to her reader. And then she reveals to them in an upfront fashion that elicits a sigh from both of her friends that the reader had been Draco Malfoy all along.

It is Harry who speaks first, asking if anyone else knew about her companionship to Draco. Hermione admits that Ginny did find out on her own. This angers Ron who seems to be holding back tears. She hates to make his hurt after giving him hope for a romance, one that she had been craving as well – at the time. Harry puts a hand on Ron’s shoulder before asking the next question.

“Is that why he lied at Malfoy Manor? He was trying to help us.” Harry didn’t really need to question her on the matter. It was without saying that he did exactly that. Draco did not want to admit that it was them there so that maybe they would be allowed free. Hermione knows that it was a hopeful goal but he had tried and she appreciates now as much as she had then.

“You already know the answer to that.” Hermione succumbs to the humiliation of her actions. Harry is trying to point to out, she decides, that Draco’s actions were selfish. And consequently, that her actions were as well. It is a terrible truth but it won the war. Hermione still justifies her decisions with that truth.

“Do you love him?” Ron chimes in. Hermione is taken aback instantly. Her jaw falls open. She has said it dozens of times to herself that he _is_ the man she loves. He is _one_ of the men she loves. Hearing someone ask her to confirm those feelings aloud, though, brings reality to a boiling point in her chest. She must blink her eyes several times before she purses her lips together and looks her friend directly in his eyes.

Carefully she places her hands on his cheek, crying as she accepts his question as valid.

“Yes. And I love you, too. And I love Harry. I love your brothers. I love Ginny. I love all of you as my family. Then with Draco…” Her voice cracks. She knows that she is about to break Ron’s heart. He lost a brother today to the war. He lost friends. And now he must lose a person he was very much _in_ _love_ with to someone he despised. Hermione recognizes that nothing could be more painful or insulting, but she also knows she must tell him if she is ever to feel at peace. “…there is something else. Something inexplicable and complicated – I am just simply drawn to him. I loved him before I ever knew it was him.”

Ron pushes himself away and apparates somewhere else. It is just Harry and Hermione on the bridge. Harry does not look angry but he is surprised. There was no way to avoid that since for years Malfoy was considered an enemy. Hermione steps away from Harry to give him some space, as though this would help process the information he’s just received. Much to her disbelief, he actually mimics her and even steps nearer.

Harry wraps his arms around Hermione unexpectedly. She accepts it and returns the gesture with passion. Their friendship is obviously still intact but Hermione wonders if she will ever be close to Ron again. There is only so much damage one can inflict before things become irreparable. Thankfully, Harry pulls back and smiles at her.

“You are my friend no matter who you love. Besides that, Draco proved himself a good man today. Ron will come around, he always does. I’ll go after him but you – _you_ should go after Draco.” Hermione can’t help but laugh with gratitude. She wasn’t sure what she expected but it all ended on a good note. They walk down the bridge hand-in-hand with different destinations in mind but bonds too strong to break. Hermione is thankful every step she takes to have a friend like Harry Potter, a hero in more ways than one.

* * *

 

Draco has just taken another body into the Great Hall to be identified and delivered to whatever location was appropriate. He actually just picked up Scabior, one of the Snatchers present when Hermione was brought to Malfoy Manor. He’d died when Neville Longbottom collapsed the bridge earlier in the evening. As he moves among the fallen witches and wizards he considers how the bad guys also had families that loved them, families that would feel the sting of their loss. Draco counted himself lucky that both of his parents were alive, imprisoned but alive nonetheless. Others were not as fortunate. His mother lost a sister today. Goyle died while his parents survived. Neville Longbottom’s family, already torn apart by Death Eaters, was now missing a good man. Harry’s parents were long lost when the war first lit a fire beneath the surface of the wizarding world. As he glances back over his shoulder people converged around Scabior, he too had parents and siblings somewhere. Draco had only heard them mentioned once when his father inquired. “In hiding, sir, they are not as strong as I am,” that is what he had said.

Draco headed back towards the broken bridge to see if anyone else had been lost there when he catches sight of something gray and blue moving in the distance. He turns his head out of habit and curiosity only to find that it is Hermione Granger and Harry Potter walking back towards the broken school. His heart flutters at the sight of a disheveled Hermione. She is beautiful regardless of what she is doing but he admits she was her most beautiful when she is saving him from inevitable death.

It seems that she has spotted him as well because within a few minutes she is jogging in his direction. Draco wants to look as calm and collected as possible so he starts kicking about rubble, bending down to inspect something that looks like a person more closely. He sees that it is another Snatcher. He doesn’t recognize this one but he was also a werewolf, evidenced by his extremely hairy face and fangs. Hermione is behind him soon enough breathing heavily.

“Didn’t you see me?” She breathes anxiously as she speaks to him, hands planting themselves on her hips forcefully. Draco straightens back to his full height and finds that he is significantly elevated. He just _towers_ over Hermione by at least six or seven inches. Kicking rocks as he steps down he is able to clear up the Snatcher’s body enough to pull him out whenever he finishes his conversation with Hermione.

“Of course I saw you. I was just trying to be impressive by acting disinterested.” Draco cannot resist the grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Once a full blown smile is on his face he dares to look up at the woman who broke laws to travel back in time and save him, and bring an end to the war. Nothing could more flattering than that, nor more telling of one’s feelings.

“I just saved your life and you are trying to be disinterested? Was it more humiliating to be saved by a _Gryffindor_ or by a _girl_?” Hermione jokes so effortlessly in a very snarky fashion. It is very natural for her to behave cockily. The superiority may not be conscious but it is present and Draco adores that about her. He suspects that for once she doesn’t have to filter herself when she is speaking to him.

“You have me to thank for your hero status, Granger. If I didn’t put myself in danger then you would have had nobody to save.” For a split second after he says it he knows that he has said something awful, since saving Neville became impossible when he showed up. He was just thinking about how Hermione does not need to beat around the bush with him when he should have considered paying more attention to what he was saying instead. Hermione doesn’t seem to flinch too much, thankfully. In fact, she steps nearer to him and takes his hands in her own. Something inside of Draco melts away, a pain so deep rooted that he had forgotten what it was like to exist without it.

“Just thank me properly, won’t you, Draco?” Whatever happens after this, he suspects, won’t be easy. His father will need to adjust. Weasley will need to time to accept it. There will actually be very few people who would understand for a very long time. Regardless of those obstacles, which are now minor compared to everything that they’d just faced in the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco was fully prepared to commit himself to Hermione Granger properly. Openly!

So without further hesitation Draco Malfoy does thank her properly. By slowly pressing his lips to hers, whispering the most important words of his entire life between soft kisses, “I will always love you, Hermione Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate that you read this entire Dramione fanfiction. It means a lot to me and keeps me motivated to continue writing - my deepest passion as a person. Have a wonderful life <3


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